They had studied footprints and _debris_. There was talk of
obtaining detectives from London. Up to the time of going to press, no
clue had been discovered, but Mrs Gater was confident that a clue would
be discovered, and of her ability to recognise the burglar when he
should be caught. His features, as seen in the moonlight, were imprinted
on her mind for ever. He was a young man, well dressed. The Earl had
telegraphed, offering a reward of L20 for the fellow's capture. A
warrant was out.
So it ran on.
Denry saw clearly all the errors of tact which he had committed on the
previous day. He ought not to have entered uninvited. But having
entered, he ought to have held firm in quiet dignity until the
housekeeper came, and then he ought to have gone into full details with
the housekeeper, producing his credentials and showing her unmistakably
that he was offended by the experience which somebody's gross
carelessness had forced upon him.
Instead of all that, he had behaved with simple stupidity, and the
result was that a price was upon his head. Far from acquiring moral
impressiveness and influential aid by his journey to Sneyd Hall, he had
utterly ruined himself as a founder of a Universal Thrift Club.
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