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“It’s all right, sir,” said the sergeant. “She was speaking from the Carlton, in London. She said so herself, and besides I heard the hotel exchange say so when the call came through.”

“What was the message? Wouldn’t wait to speak to me, eh?”

“She said she understood you wanted to get in touch with her, and with Mr. Holland. So you’d be interested to know that they were both staying at the Carlton and would be there for the next day or two, and then they would come back. She’d be out dancing to-night but would always be glad to see you by appointment. But would you remember to ask for Mrs. Holland, as she was married by special license to-day.”

The Inspector digested—or began to digest—this news in silence. If Elma and Holland were man and wife, it made it difficult to … And then the will. If the Admiral was dead, the clause about his consent to his niece’s marriage presumably fell to the ground … Elma’s message certainly gave him something to think about.

“Well, Sergeant,” he decided, “we’d better get on with it. Hurry up that call to the Admiralty, and after that I want you to get hold of Mr. Edwin Dakers,” and he rapidly fired off a series of instructions, including one that he was to be told when Jennie Merton came back. “I’m going down to the boat-house,” he ended and departed via the french window.

He found Hempstead patiently on guard.

“Any news?” he asked him.

“No, sir. No one been here.”

“No fresh discoveries?”

“No, sir. The sergeant told you about the key?”

“Yes. Good work. Anything happened opposite?”

“No, sir. The young gentlemen have been looking everywhere for the knife, but I don’t think they’ve found anything. They said they were going to have a bathe now.”

The sun was getting hot, and there was a note of envy in the constable’s tones.

“Seen the Vicar?”

“Yes, sir. He’s been watering the garden.”

“What, this morning? In the sun?”

“Yes, sir, with a hose. Worth watching, it was. He watered pretty well everything in sight—even the flowers now and again. But I shouldn’t say he’s done them much harm. I reckon he doesn’t know an awful lot about gardening, and that’s just what Bob Hawkins, who goes in twice a week, says.”

The Inspector surveyed the boat-house and its contents.

“We’ll make casts of those footprints if we can,” he said, “though they don’t look very distinctive. And I think we’ll take out the oars and rowlocks. We can’t keep this place under observation for ever and if there are any finger-prints that’ll tell us anything, we don’t want them mucked up.”

He stepped into the boat and began cautiously to hand out the articles in question to Hempstead. Whilst he was so doing, the sound of voices on the opposite bank made him turn, rocking the boat rather perilously. The two boys, clad in bathing dresses, with towels in their hands, were coming down the rough, red-brick path from the summer-house. A sudden thought struck the Inspector.

“Hullo!” he called, as they reached the Vicarage landing-steps. “I wonder whether you’d let me have the loan of your old punt for a while? It would save me going round by road every time.”

“Rather!” the elder of the two answered.

“If you could bring her across and swim back,” Rudge suggested.

“That’s the idea,” the boy answered with a grin.

By the time the paraphernalia from the boat had been landed safely, the punt had arrived; the Inspector moored it to a ring in the Rundel Croft landing-stage.

“How many times a day do you bathe?” he asked pleasantly. “Or has the search made you so hot?”

“It’s all part of the search,” the younger replied, perhaps detecting a note of criticism in the question.

“We’re going to try diving for the weapon,” the other added.

“Good,” said Rudge, “though I’m afraid that what with the mud and the tide, and not knowing quite how big the weapon is likely to be, it won’t be easy. I’d hoped you’d find it on the bank somewhere, but it seems you’ve drawn a blank.”

“All we’ve found is the Admiral’s favourite pipe,” said Peter.

“Indeed! And where