"Shot, you mean."
"No, I mean stabbed. With a bayonet."
The man stared wonderingly.
"G'way,"he said.
They bid him good-day and tramped down the three long flights to the street. Pendleton was silent, and walked with his head held down.
"We have more than an hour of good daylight left,"said his friend, as they reached the street. "And as I must have a good unrestricted look at Hume's apartments before everything is hopelessly changed about, suppose we go there now. We can get a taxi in the next street."
"Just a moment,"said Pendleton. "Before we take another step in the matter, Kirk, I must ask a question."
Ashton-Kirk put his hand upon his friend's shoulder.
"Don't,"said he. "I know just what the question would be, and at the present time I can't answer it. At this moment, except for some few theories that I have yet to verify, I am as much puzzled as yourself."
"But,"and there was a tremble in the speaker's voice, "you must answer me, old chap—and you must answer now."
The catch in his voice, the expression upon the young man's face caused Ashton-Kirk to grasp an astonishing fact. The hand that he had laid upon Pendleton's shoulder tightened as he answered:
"Yes, Edyth Vale is concerned. As a rule I do not speak of my clients to others, but in view of what you have already heard and seen, it would be a waste of words to deny it. But, see here, there are lots of things we don't know yet about this business. It may look very different in a few hours. Come."
Pendleton gazed with sober eyes into the speaker's face for a moment. Then he said:
"Let us get the cab; if you are to go over Hume's rooms before dark, you haven't any too much time."
At the next corner they signaled a taxicab, and in a short time they were set down in Christie Place. Paulson, the policeman, was standing guard.
"How are you?"he greeted them affably.
"Been here all day?"asked Ashton-Kirk.
"Oh, no. Just come on. I'm the third shift since I saw you last."
"Nobody has been permitted to go upstairs, I presume?"
"Only the coroner's man, who came for the body. And they touched nothing but the body. Our orders were strong on that."
"Has anything been heard as the result of the post-mortem?"
"It showed that Hume was in bad shape from too much drink. Then he had a hard knock on the head, and the wound in his chest."
"But there was no sign of a bullet wound?"
"No,"said Paulson, surprised. "Nothing like that."
"Just a moment,"said the investigator to Pendleton. He crossed the street, walked along for a few paces, then paused at the curb and looked back toward Hume's doorway. Then he returned with quick steps and an alert look in his eyes.
"Now we'll go upstairs,"he said.
But before doing so he stopped and examined the lock of the street door closely; then he mounted the stairs slowly, his glances seeming to take in everything. At the top he paused, his head bent, apparently in deep thought. Then he lifted it suddenly, and laughed exultantly.
"That's it,"he said, "I'm quite sure that is it."
"I wouldn't doubt your word for an instant,"said Pendleton, in something like his old voice. "Whatever it is, I'm quite sure it is if you say so."
The policeman on guard in the hall examined them carefully.
"All right,"said he, after they had explained and he had verified it by calling to his mate at the street door. "Go right to work, gents. I'm here to see that nobody gets in from above by way of the scuttle, and I guess I won't be in the way."
There were three gas branches at intervals along the length of the dim hall, each with a cluster of four jets. Ashton-Kirk lighted all three of these and began making a careful examination of the passage. Along toward the rear was a stairway leading to the floor above. Next this was a small room in which there was a water tap. At the extreme end of the hall was a window with a green shade drawn to the bottom.
Ashton-Kirk regarded this for a moment intently. Then he reached up and turned off the gas at the branch nearest the window. Daylight could now be seen through the blind; the investigator pointed and said:
"This shows us something. About six inches of the bottom of the blind is of a decidedly lighter color than the remainder. This is caused by exposure to the light and indicates that this blind has seldom been drawn in daylight as it is now."
He drew back the blind and looked at the side nearest the window. At the top of the faded space was a heavy dark line.
"I'll modify that last statement,"said he, with satisfaction. "I'll go as far as to say, now, that the blind has never been drawn since it was put up. This thick line marks the part that lay across the top of the roller, and the dust seems never to have been disturbed."
The gas was lighted once more.
"Hume did not draw that curtain,"said Ashton-Kirk, decidedly. "He was too careless a man, apparently, to think of such a thing. The intruders, whoever they were, did it; they had a light, perhaps, and did not want to be—"
He paused abruptly here, and Pendleton heard him draw his breath sharply between his teeth; his eyes were fixed upon the lowermost step of the flight that led to the floor above.
One of the gas branches hung here; its full glare was thrown downward. Following the fixed gaze of his friend, Pendleton saw two partly burned matches, the stump of a candle, and some traces of tallow which had fallen from the latter upon the step. To Pendleton's amazement, his friend dropped to his knees before these as a heathen would before an idol. With the utmost attention he examined them and the step upon which they lay. Then he arose, enthusiasm upon his face.
"Beautiful!"he cried. "I do not recall ever having seen anything just like it!"He slapped Pendleton upon the back with a heavy, hand. "Pen, that stump of candle sheds more light than the finest arc lamp ever manufactured."
"I'm watching and I'm listening,"spoke Pendleton. "Also I'm agitating my small portion of gray matter. But inspiration, it seems, is not for me. So I'll have to ask you what these things tell you."
"Well, they give me a fairly good view of the man who, while he may not actually have murdered Hume, had much to do with his taking off."He bent over the lower step once more, then looked up with a smile upon his face. "What would you say,"asked he, "if I told you that I draw from these things that the gentleman was short, well-dressed, near-sighted and knew something of the modern German dramatists."
"I should say,"replied Pendleton, firmly, "that you ought to have your brain looked at. It sounds wrong to me."
Ashton-Kirk laughed, and started up the stairs toward the third floor.
"I'll return in a moment,"he said. "Don't trouble to come up."
He was gone but a very little while, and when he returned his face wore a satisfied look.
"The bolt of the scuttle is broken, just as Osborne said,"he reported. "And anyone who could gain the roof would have little difficulty in effecting an entrance."He led the way down the hall, saying as he went: "Now we'll browse around in the rooms for a while; then we'll be off to dinner."
The storage room was entered first as upon the earlier visit, but Ashton-Kirk wasted but little time upon it. In the front room, however, he examined things with a minuteness that amazed Pendleton. And yet everything was done quickly; like a keen-nosed hound, the investigator went from one object to another; nothing seemed to escape him, nothing was too small for his attention. One of the first things that he did was to get a chair and plant it against the lettered door that led directly into the hall. At the top was a gong with a spring-hammer, one of the sort that rings its