“Well, we just left it there.”
“That was wise. You say Sir Robert was away yesterday. Has he returned?”
“We expect him back today.”
“When did Sir Robert give away his sister’s dog?”
“It was just a week ago today. The creature was howling outside the old well-house, and Sir Robert was in one of his tantrums that morning. He caught it up, and I thought he would have killed it. Then he gave it to Sandy Bain, the jockey, and told him to take the dog to old Barnes at the Green Dragon, for he never wished to see it again.”
Holmes sat for some time in silent thought. He had lit the oldest and foulest of his pipes.
“I am not clear yet what you want me to do in this matter, Mr. Mason,” he said at last. “Can’t you make it more definite?”
“Perhaps this will make it more definite, Mr. Holmes,” said our visitor.
He took a paper from his pocket, and, unwrapping it carefully, he exposed a charred fragment of bone.
Holmes examined it with interest.
“Where did you get it?”
“There is a central heating furnace in the cellar under Lady Beatrice’s room. It’s been off for some time, but Sir Robert complained of cold and had it on again.
“Harvey runs it—he’s one of my lads. This very morning he came to me with this which he found raking out the cinders. He didn’t like the look of it.”