it up. There was that about his attitude which showed me that he was not going to say one word in elucidation of the mystery—then, at any rate. But just then I remembered something.
"I forgot this!" said I—"It didn't seem of much moment at the time—but it's this: when Pawley was here, you left him and me together, here, in this room, while you went upstairs to write down some notes or memoranda for him. During your absence he picked up the copper box, and after some remarks on its workmanship asked me if I knew whose coat-of-arms that was, and some other questions about it. He was—suspiciously interested."
"How do you mean—suspiciously?" he asked.
"It struck me—perhaps afterwards—that Pawley could have answered the question himself," I replied. "Although he asked me, he knew—already."
"Then the gentleman knew a bit more about heraldry than he did about sepulchral barrows!" he remarked with a sardonic laugh. "Well, tell that, too, to Madrasia in the morning—she likes mysteries in fiction and here's
