When they occurred to Derrick, he was not very far from the spot where
Heyton had disappeared for a minute or two; and Derrick sauntered
towards the place and stood looking round him. He was keen-eyed, and in
some of his experiences in South America he had learnt a certain amount
of bush-craft; and he had no difficulty in finding the exact spot in
which he had lost sight, for a moment, of Heyton.
With a feeling that was scarcely one of curiosity, he examined the
ground in close proximity, and presently, he caught sight of a portion
of the fringe of a bathing-towel. He took it from the thorn on which it
hung, and fingered it absently; and while doing so, he noted the mark of
footsteps which had trodden down the bracken in front of a certain bush.
Almost at the same moment, he saw a little heap of dried leaves beneath
the bush, and, mechanically, he stirred them with his foot. To his
amazement, the displaced leaves revealed a box covered with morocco
leather. He stood and looked down at it with that sense of incredulity
which comes to all of us when we happen upon something absolutely
unexpected; then he knelt down and took up the box. It was heavy and,
when he shook it, it rattled softly.
He stood with the box in his hand, staring at it, and wondering whether
it was the thing Heyton had concealed, and what it contained. Also
another most important question was agitating him: What should he do
with it? Presumably, it was Heyton's property; and should be returned to
him at once. But why on earth should Heyton come out in the early
morning to conceal a morocco-covered box under a bush in Thexford Woods?
To say that Derrick was suspicious is to express inadequately the
feeling that suddenly assailed him. He knew that the man was a
scoundrel, and as unscrupulous as he was weak; a man who could forge a
cheque, and plant the blame on another, is capable of anything; and
Derrick scented a mystery, a base, ignoble one, with Heyton as its
centre. He sat down on the trunk of a fallen tree, the box in his hand,
and stared frowningly before him. He could find no answer to the enigma.
That he himself should march up to the Hall and restore the box to
Heyton, was impossible. After all, the affair was none of his, and,
perhaps, the best thing he could do would be to put the box back in its
hiding-place and leave things to work themselves out. He wanted to have
nothing more to do with Heyton, or any business of his. Yes; the easiest
and the safest plan would be to leave the box where he had found it and
have nothing more to do with it. With this more or less wise resolution,
he rose and had taken a step forward, when he heard a sound behind him,
felt a hand fall heavily on his shoulder, and, turning, met the stern
and agitated gaze of Inspector Brown.