"That's just it, sir. I thought that you, having a bit of a knack of hitting on things, in a manner of speaking, and making a sort of hobby of it - well, what I thought was, I might do worse than tell you what's puzzling us."

"You might, but if you imagine that I'm setting up as an amateur detective…'

"Oh no, sir, nothing like that. Though when you spotted it was Bilton had those diamonds I must say that I did think to myself that you were fair thrown away in your profession. Of course, you happened to be present when the theft took place, which was an advantage we hadn't got. Still, I will say it was a very neat bit of work, Mr. Amberley, and we were all very grateful to you, because it was touch and go whether we called in the Yard or not."

"Just like this case," nodded Mr. Amberley.

"You've hit it, sir," said the sergeant. "It's the chief constable. He's what you might call - well, a bit timid. Now when I said that there wasn't anything queer about this case, what I meant was, it's all straight on the surface. Nothing known against Dawson, no enemies, no women, been in service at the manor for years, everything above board. Well, that ain't natural. Take it from, me, Mr. Amberley, when a man gets himself murdered there's always something behind, and ten to one he's a wrong 'un. Setting aside women, that is. Now in this case there's only one thing that looks a bit fishy."

"Do you wear glasses?" asked Mr. Amberley suddenly.

"Me, sir? No, I do not."

"You should."

"Not me, Mr. Amberley. I see as well as I did when l was a two-year-old."

"That's what I meant. Go on."

"Blessed if I know what you're driving at, sir," said the sergeant candidly. "Well, this fishy thing is the money Dawson had put by. It all goes to his sister. She's a widow, living in London. He hadn't made a will, so she gets it. And there's a tidy sum by what one can make out."