“Curious,” murmured the Frenchman.
“Why curious?”
Lemoine stooped and picked up a small object from the floor.
“Because of this,” he said. “This match has not lain here for two years—not even for two days.”
Battle looked at the match curiously. It was of pink wood, with a yellow head.
“Any of you ladies or gentlemen drop this, by any chance?” he asked.
He received a negative all round.
“Well, then,” said Superintendent Battle, “we’ve seen all there is to see. We might as well get out of here.”
The proposal was assented to by all. The panel had swung to, but Bundle showed them how it was fastened from the inside. She unlatched it, swung it noiselessly open, and sprang through the opening, alighting in the Council Chamber with a resounding thud.
“Damn!” said Lord Caterham, springing up from an armchair in which he appeared to have been taking forty winks.
“Poor old father,” said Bundle. “Did I startle you?”
“I can’t think,” said Lord Caterham, “why nobody nowadays ever sits still after a meal. It’s a lost art. God knows Chimneys is big enough, but even here there doesn’t seem to be a single room where I can be sure of a little peace. Good Lord, how many of you are there? Reminds me of the pantomimes I used to go to as a boy when hordes of demons used to pop up out of trapdoors.”