The iron bands were broken and twisted and the whole of one side lay in fragments on the floor; but upon a board which had formed part of the top I perceived the figure of a cat roughly traced in green paint.

Beyond any shadow of doubt this crate was the same which on the night before had lain in the garage of the Red House!

CHAPTER III

THE GREEN IMAGE

“Yes,” said Gatton, “I was speaking no more than the truth when I told them that you had special information which I hoped you would place at my disposal.  Some of the particulars were given to me over the ’phone, you see, and I was glad to find you here when I arrived.  I should have consulted you in any event, and principally about—­that.”

He pointed to an object which I held in my hand.  It was a little green enamel image; the crouching figure of a woman having a cat’s head, a piece of Egyptian workmanship probably of the fourth century B.C.  Considered in conjunction with the figure painted upon the crate, the presence of this little image was so amazing a circumstance that from the moment when it had been placed in my hand I had stood staring at it almost dazedly.

The divisional surgeon had gone, and only the local officer remained with Gatton and myself in the building.  Sir Marcus Coverly presented all the frightful appearance of one who has died by asphyxia, and although of course there would be an autopsy, little doubt existed respecting the mode of his death.  The marks of violence found upon the body could be accounted for by the fact that the crate had fallen a distance of thirty feet into the hold, and the surgeon was convinced that the injuries to the body had all been received after death, death having taken place in his opinion fully twelve hours before.

“You see,” said Gatton, “when the crate broke several things which presumably were in Sir Marcus’ pockets were found lying loose amongst the wreckage.  That cat-woman was one of them.”

“Yet it may not have been in any of his pockets at all,” said I.

“It may not,” agreed Gatton.  “But that it was somewhere in the crate is beyond dispute, I think.  Besides this is more than a coincidence.”

And he pointed to the painted cat upon the lid of the packing-case.  I had already told him of the episode at the Red House on the previous night, and now: 

“The fates are on our side,” I said, “for at least we know where the crate was despatched from.”

“Quite so,” agreed Gatton.  “We should have got that from the carter later, of course, but every minute saved in an affair such as this is worth considering.  As a pressman you will probably disagree with me, but I propose to suppress these two pieces of evidence.  Premature publication of clews too often handicaps us.  Now, what is that figure exactly?”

“It is a votive offering of a kind used in Ancient Egypt by pilgrims to Bubastis.  It is a genuine antique, and if you think the history of such relics is likely to assist the investigation I can give you some further particulars this evening if you have time to call at my place.”