It was Lydia’s car. It had been driven along a wood road into a deep ravine behind the Stoddard house, and carefully hidden. The gardener who had found it was still on guard when Jim and Mr. Stoddard reached it. He had a small rifle with him and he claimed to have touched nothing.

“I was looking for the skunks that have been cutting up the lawn,” he explained. “Nasty little devils they are. I came down the hill, because I’ve seen one or two down here. Then I saw the car. I think there’s a coat of some sort in it.”

The car was not locked and, using a handkerchief, Jim opened the door. Don’s overcoat was there, a light-brown one with the name of an English tailor in it. It was still wet, and so was the rug on the floor at the back. There was no sign of the slipper or of the button.

Julian Stoddard stood by, looking formal and detached as usual. Also he looked annoyed.

“I hope this doesn’t get into the papers,” he said. “I don’t want photographers and reporters overrunning my place.”

“Afraid it can’t be helped, Mr. Stoddard,” Jim told him. “I understand they’re running a special train from town for them! We’ll move the car after it’s been gone over for prints. That’s the best I can do.”

It was on the way back up the hill that something occurred to Jim. “You’ve got a swimming pool around somewhere, haven’t you?”

“I have. Why?”

“I’d like to take a look at it.”

“Good God, you don’t believe Don Morgan was in my pool!”

“Well, look at it,” said Jim reasonably. “You know the story. It’s all over the place. Morgan had been in water somewhere. Then here’s his car, or his wife’s. Something wet has been in it, and it’s not far down this hill to the car.”

“It’s ridiculous. Why my pool? There are a dozen on the Hill, not counting the one at the club.”

He was indignant. He was one of the most important men in the community, and here was this amateur policeman trying to mix him up with a possible murder. Nevertheless, he led Jim to the pool and stood by while he surveyed it. It was clear enough at the shallow end, but at the deep one the bottom was not visible.

“I’ll have to ask you not to empty it until we’ve searched it,” Jim said, in his best authoritative manner. “I wouldn’t use it either, Mr. Stoddard.”

“My little girls have some children coming this afternoon to swim.”

“Sorry,” said Jim. “They’ll have to play tiddly winks or something.” And seeing Julian’s face: “If necessary I’ll put a man on guard. I don’t want it disturbed until I’ve had it examined; and I may have to empty it. You’d better have someone on hand to do it.”

He left on that, and half an hour later Julian had the doubtful pleasure of seeing an old Ford drive in, park itself on his handsome driveway, and a man in plain and certainly not handsome attire settle himself on a bench beside the pool and light a pipe.