"About an hour, sir--just after six it was when they told Mrs. Clough
and me. He went out at ten minutes past five."

Collingwood got up. He gave the lad's shoulder a friendly squeeze.

"All right!" he said. "Now you seem a smart, intelligent lad--don't
mention a word to any one of what we've been talking about. You have not
mentioned it before, I suppose? Not a word? That's right--don't. Come in
again tomorrow morning to see if I want you to be here as usual. I'm
going to put a manager into this shop."

When the boy had gone Collingwood locked up the shop from the house
side, put the key in his pocket, and went into the kitchen.

"Mrs. Clough," he said. "I want to see the clothes which my grandfather
was wearing when he was brought home last night. Where are they?"

"They're in that little room aside of his bed-chamber, Mestur
Collingwood," replied the housekeeper. "I laid 'em all there, on the
clothes-press, just as they were taken off of him, by Lawyer Eldrick's
orders--he said they hadn't been examined, and wasn't to be, till you
came. Nobody whatever's touched 'em since."

Collingwood went upstairs and into the little room--a sort of box-room
opening out of that in which the old man lay. There were the clothes; he
went through the pockets of every garment. He found such things as keys,
a purse, loose money, a memorandum book, a bookseller's catalogue or
two, two or three letters of a business sort--but there was no big
folded paper, covered with writing, such as Jabey Naylor had described.