When they occurred to Derrick, he was not very far from the spot where

Heyton had disappeared for a minute or two; and Derrick sauntered

towards the place and stood looking round him. He was keen-eyed, and in

some of his experiences in South America he had learnt a certain amount

of bush-craft; and he had no difficulty in finding the exact spot in

which he had lost sight, for a moment, of Heyton.

With a feeling that was scarcely one of curiosity, he examined the

ground in close proximity, and presently, he caught sight of a portion

of the fringe of a bathing-towel. He took it from the thorn on which it

hung, and fingered it absently; and while doing so, he noted the mark of

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footsteps which had trodden down the bracken in front of a certain bush.

Almost at the same moment, he saw a little heap of dried leaves beneath

the bush, and, mechanically, he stirred them with his foot. To his

amazement, the displaced leaves revealed a box covered with morocco

leather. He stood and looked down at it with that sense of incredulity

which comes to all of us when we happen upon something absolutely

unexpected; then he knelt down and took up the box. It was heavy and,

when he shook it, it rattled softly.

He stood with the box in his hand, staring at it, and wondering whether

it was the thing Heyton had concealed, and what it contained. Also

another most important question was agitating him: What should he do

with it? Presumably, it was Heyton's property; and should be returned to

him at once. But why on earth should Heyton come out in the early

morning to conceal a morocco-covered box under a bush in Thexford Woods?

To say that Derrick was suspicious is to express inadequately the

feeling that suddenly assailed him. He knew that the man was a

scoundrel, and as unscrupulous as he was weak; a man who could forge a

cheque, and plant the blame on another, is capable of anything; and

Derrick scented a mystery, a base, ignoble one, with Heyton as its

centre. He sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, the box in his hand,

and stared frowningly before him. He could find no answer to the enigma.

That he himself should march up to the Hall and restore the box to

Heyton, was impossible. After all, the affair was none of his, and,

perhaps, the best thing he could do would be to put the box back in its

hiding-place and leave things to work themselves out. He wanted to have

nothing more to do with Heyton, or any business of his. Yes; the easiest

and the safest plan would be to leave the box where he had found it and

have nothing more to do with it. With this more or less wise resolution,

he rose and had taken a step forward, when he heard a sound behind him,

felt a hand fall heavily on his shoulder, and, turning, met the stern

and agitated gaze of Inspector Brown.




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