and dividends. Our duty is to solve this mystery. The executors can have their turn, old chap, when we've finished. At present they haven't the key, or any notion where it is. One of them mentioned it, and said he supposed it was in the widow's possession."
"Well," I remarked, "I must say that I don't half like the idea of turning out a safe without the presence of the executors."
"Police enquiries come before executors' inventories," he replied. "They'll get their innings all in good time. The house is, at present, in the occupation of the police, and nobody therefore can disturb us."
"Have you told Thorpe?"
"No. He's gone up to Scotland Yard to make his report. He'll probably be down again this afternoon. Let's finish, and take the ferry across."
Thus persuaded I drained my ale, and together we went down to the ferry, landing at Kew Gardens, and crossing them until we emerged by the Unicorn Gate, almost opposite the house.
There were loiterers still outside, men, women, and children, who lounged in the vicinity, staring blankly up at the drawn blinds. A constable in uniform admitted us. He had his lunch, a pot of beer and some bread and cheese which his wife had probably brought him, on the dining-room table, and we had disturbed him with his mouth full.
He was the same man whom Ambler Jevons had seen in the morning, and as we entered he saluted, saying:
"Inspector Thorpe has left a message for you, sir. He'll be back from the Yard about half-past three, and would very much like to see you."
"Do you know why he wants to see me?"
"It appears, sir, that one of the witnesses who gave evidence this morning is missing."
"Missing!" he cried, pricking up his ears. "Who's missing?"
"The manservant, sir. My sergeant told me an hour ago that as soon as the man had given evidence he went out, and was seen hurrying towards Gunnersbury Station. They believe he's absconded."
I exchanged significant glances with my companion, but neither of us uttered a word. Ambler gave vent to his habitual grunt of dissatisfaction, and then led the way upstairs.
The body had been removed from the room in which it had been found, and the bed was dismantled. When inside the apartment, he turned to me calmly, saying:
"There seems something in Thorpe's theory regarding that fellow Short, after all."
"If he has really absconded, it is an admission of guilt," I remarked.
"Most certainly," he replied. "It's a suspicious circumstance, in any case, that he did not remain until the conclusion of the inquiry."
We pulled the chest of drawers, a beautiful piece of old Sheraton, away from the door of the safe, and before placing the key in the lock my companion examined the exterior minutely. The key was partly rusted, and appeared as though it had not been used for many months.
Could it be 

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