re were powder marks
around the bullet hole. So, how--"

Professor Brierly was not listening. He walked into the bedroom,
followed by the others. He examined the walls and floors. He went
to the window, submitting each pane to a careful scrutiny. He
looked carefully at the sill. Then he went to the door, with its
jagged scars showing from the recent assault upon it by the
police. He returned once more to the window. He opened it--it swung
outward on a hinge--and looked out a long time.

When he withdrew his head from his long scrutiny, even Matthews,
who knew him best, could not tell from his demeanor if he had what
he was seeking. For that matter, Matthews was completely in the
dark as to what his mentor and foster father was looking for.

Professor Brierly turned to Brasher, who had followed him into the
room and was following his movements with cynical amusement.

"Who takes care of these rooms, Mr. Brasher; I mean who cleans
them?"

"I don't know, but there's a sort of housekeeper. I'll get her up
here."

"Do so, please."

A thin, middle-aged woman, dressed in somber black, appeared. She
looked from one to the other of the group of men. There was no
emotion visible on her thin features, except for a tinge of
defiance. She was introduced as Mrs. Horsnall.

"Mrs. Horsnall," asked Professor Brierly, "who cleans these
rooms?"

"The maid, Ella."

"When did she clean these rooms last?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Are you sure she cleaned them properly?"

"She did that, or she would have heard from me. I looked at the
rooms myself after she was through. I always look after the work
of the help around here."

No one present doubted that she did a thorough job of looking
after things.

"Have any repairs been done in these rooms recently, Mrs.
Horsnall?"

"Repairs, how do you mean?"

"Well, such things as locks, hinges, lights, windows, and so
forth."

"No. We've got a man of all work who takes care of such things. He
hasn't been in these rooms since last spring; he replaced that fan
in the hole there." She pointed to the ventilator.

"How is it there is no screen on the window? There are mosquitoes
around here, are there not?"

"Yes, sometimes. But Mr. Miller never opened the window, except at
night sometimes, when there wasn't any light in the room and that
only for a short time. You see, he was queer that way. He was
afraid of being shot at."

"Did Mr. Morris have any revolvers, Mrs. Horsnall