CHAPTER XXVII.
Mr.Jacobs, the detective from Scotland Yard, arrived at the Hall a little after four.

He was a short, comfortable-looking person, with a round, almost boyish face, a pleasant smile and a pair of blue eyes, with a frank and innocent expression; in fact, anything more unlike the conventional detective beloved by the fictionist it would be difficult to imagine.

The Inspector had met him at the station, and had gone over the case with meticulous care; and Mr.Jacobs, smoking placidly, had listened--well, as you and I, dear reader, would listen to a tale which had no very great interest for us.

If the truth must be told, the worthy Inspector was rather disappointed; he had expected the great man to display a hawk-like acuteness and to ask a number of incisive questions; but Mr.Jacobs asked none; he said merely, when the recital was finished, "You have done everything you could, Mr.Smith.Not a very difficult case, eh ?" "Not difficult!" repeated the Inspector, with surprise.

"Have you got a clue already ?" Mr.Jacobs smiled.