she was,
stood here for some little time."

Scanlon was impressed; but at the same time there was a dubious look in
his eye.

"A woman _did_ stand there," he agreed; "and maybe she was looking in at
the window. But what do you draw from that?"

Ashton-Kirk smiled.

"Nothing--as yet. We'll just note the fact, old chap, and pass on to the
next. Later we'll put the two together, and see if any meaning is to be
had from the combination."

He was silent after that, moving here and there over the ground, his
head bent and his attention fixed. Scanlon chuckled as he watched him,
and marveled at the similarity between the movements of his friend and
those of a thoroughbred hound.

"And almost with his nose to the ground," observed Bat. "He's so fixed
in what he's doing that the European war could move into the next
county, and he'd never know it."

Once more the investigator came to a stop; from beneath the division
fence where the grass was rather long, he picked a shining object which
at once brought Bat Scanlon to his side.

"A revolver!" exclaimed the big man, amazed.

[Illustration: "EVERY CHAMBER LOADED"]

"With every chamber loaded," said the investigator. "It's a Smith and
Wesson; it's of a small calibre, commonly called a 'ladies' revolver.'"

"Funny how it got there, ain't it?" said Bat. "For it couldn't have had
anything to do with the killing of the 'Bounder,' seeing that he passed
out through being bumped with a candlestick."

"Nevertheless," said Ashton-Kirk, as he slipped the weapon into his
pocket, "the thing being here, and at this time, is rather
interesting."

He proceeded with his inspection of the ground, striking off toward the
front of the house as though following a trail. Bat lost sight of him
for a few moments; then, as he, too, reached the front of the house, he
saw the other standing, his hands in his pockets, a puzzled look on his
face.

"Well," said Scanlon, "what now?"

"Suppose we have a look at the other side of the building," replied the
other.

Here the police had also done some going to and fro; the broad foot of
Osborne was distinctly marked everywhere.

"And here is the sergeant's," said Ashton-Kirk, pointing. "The
policeman's shoe is not to be mistaken, and Sergeant Nailor always wears
soles that have been pegged."

Under one of the windows the investigator came to a halt. It was a
window smaller than any of the others and much higher in the wall.
Beneath it was