“That certainly would be better,” the manager admitted. “It is not that this picture is likely to be of any value, you know, but it is rather the principle of the thing. I hope that you understand me.”

“That’s all right,” said Shelley briskly. “Now, what about this will?”

During this exchange of courtesies Samuel had been inspecting the documents with some care, and now he shook his head sadly.

“Afraid you’re out of luck again, Inspector,” he said. “The will’s not here.”

Shelley sighed. “That means another visit to Pinner, I suppose,” he said. “A damned nuisance that this wasn’t settled before, but it can’t be helped.”

So, with a word of gratitude to the manager, he left, and was soon bowling out towards Professor Arnell’s house, which he had visited the night before.

Arrived there, he asked to see Miss Arnell, and was soon seated on the comfortable couch in her drawing-room, explaining his errand.

“I don’t think,” she said, “that father had any documents of that sort here, except those directly connected with his work.”

“Still, you can’t be sure,” Shelley persisted. “And the will may help us to settle the problem of his death.”

“All his papers are in the desk in his study,” she went on, “and you are welcome, of course, to go through them if you care to do it. I’m afraid that you’ll find it a most dreadful muddle,” she went on with a smile. “Father was a terribly untidy man, and the one thing he was absolutely adamant about was that I was not to touch his private papers.”

“That’s all right,” said Shelley, smiling in his turn. “We’re quite accustomed to sorting out untidy masses of papers, you know, Miss Arnell. That’s just part of our job, you see.”

“I see. Then shall I take you along there?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Silently she led the way across the tiled hall into a cosy little study. It was lined with books almost from floor to ceiling, and before the window was a large roll-top desk—clearly the desk to which Miss Arnell had referred.

She fumbled in her handbag and produced a large bunch of keys. One of these she fitted to the lock of the desk, and, after some more fumbling, succeeded in turning it in the lock and opening the desk.

“There!” she said. The swing of her arm indicated the chaos which reigned. “A dreadful muddle” it was indeed, and Shelley groaned inwardly as he thought of the amount of work which this meant.

“Shall I leave you to it?” she asked.