"Good. You and I will go there to-morrow. I"ll be your a.s.sistant, Wigan--say an expert in finger prints. I"ll meet you outside The Lodge at ten o"clock. There are so many clues in this case, the difficulty is to know which one to follow, I must have a few quiet hours to decide."
I smiled. It was like Quarles to make such a statement, especially after I had declared that criminals were becoming cleverer. Never were clues more conspicuous by their absence, I imagine. I was, however, delighted to have the professor"s help. It was like old times.
The next morning I met Quarles in Queen"s Square, and his appearance was proof of his enthusiasm. He posed as rather a feeble, inquisitive old man who could talk of nothing but finger prints and their significance. Sir Arthur was evidently not impressed with his ability to solve any mystery.
When we entered the drawing-room he seemed lost in admiration of the apartment, and did not even glance at the open coffin which stood on the trestles. He walked to the window, drew aside the blind, and looked into the garden. Then he looked into the small room.
"No other exit here but the window. An entrance might have been made by that window."
"The door between the two rooms was locked," said Sir Arthur. "I had to get the key from my mother when Mr. Wigan wanted to go in. It is my mother"s special room, but she had been so occupied in nursing my father that she had not used it for more than a week."
Then Quarles looked at the wreaths, wanted to know which ones had been left near the coffin when the room was locked for the night, and the wreaths which Sir Arthur pointed out he examined carefully. Then he pointed to a large cross lying on an armchair.
"Has that one been there all the time?"
Sir Arthur explained that two or three wreaths had come late in the evening. He had himself brought them into the room on the morning of the funeral. That cross was one of them.
"Ah, it is a pity you didn"t bring them in that night. You might have surprised the villains at work."
"We were in bed by eleven. Do you imagine they began before that?"
"Possibly," said Quarles, as he turned his attention to the coffin. He examined the lid with a lens, for the finger marks, he said, which one might expect to find near the screw holes. Then he studied the sides of the coffin. The two pieces of lead did not appear to interest him very much, but he asked me to push the smaller piece from the foot of the coffin. He examined the lining, felt the padding, tried its thickness with the point of a penknife, and in doing so he slit the lining.
"Sorry," he said. "My old hands are not as steady as they used to be.
Quite a thick padding, and quite a substantial coffin."
He had brought out some of the padding with his knife, and this left part of the floor of the coffin near the foot visible. This he tapped with the handle of his penknife to test its thickness.
"Quite an ordinary coffin--plain but good," he went on, looking at the bra.s.s fittings.
"It was my father"s wish that it should be so," said Sir Arthur.
"Strange what a lot of trouble some men take about their funerals, while others never trouble at all," said the professor, looking round the room again. "I suppose, Sir Arthur, like the rest of us your father had enemies."
"Not that I know of."
"An old rival, for instance, in your mother"s affections."
"There was nothing of the kind. Mr. Thompson, who is still in the house--you saw him yesterday, Mr. Wigan--will endorse this. He knew my mother before her marriage."
"Still, some people must have envied your father. But for him, another branch of the family would have inherited the estates, I understand. Has he always been on friendly terms with this branch of the family?"
"Always, and has helped them considerably."
"Experience teaches us that it is often the most difficult thing to forgive those who do us favors," said Quarles sententiously.
"Do you believe that some one out of wanton cruelty has stolen the body with no purpose beyond mere revenge?"
"It looks like it, Sir Arthur. The body will probably be discovered presently. Possibly the thief will furnish you with a clue so that you may know he or she has taken revenge. I am afraid there is nothing to be done but to wait. I feel greatly for Lady Rusholm."
"The waiting will be dreadful. I am trying to persuade my mother to go away at once."
"Why not? You will remain in London, of course. Your father"s papers may throw some light on the mystery."
"I have interviewed lawyers, and I have already gone through some of his private papers. I do not think any light will come that way. Do you want to look at anything else in the house?"
"I think not," I said.
"My specialty is finger prints," said Quarles, "nothing else. In this case my specialty has proved useless." When we left the house Quarles turned toward Connaught Road.
"Is it your real opinion that the only thing to do is to wait?" I asked.
"Let"s go and see if we can find any more finger prints," he chuckled.
The garage was shut. Cut into the big gates was a small door.
"Not a difficult lock," said Quarles. "I may have a key that will fit it.
We must get in somehow."
"There is a door into the garage from the garden. We could have gone that way."
"And advertised ourselves to the servants. I wanted to avoid that."
He found a key to open the door, and he made no pretense of looking for finger prints now. He examined the car. It was a big one--open--with a cape hood--capable of carrying five or six persons besides the driver.
He was interested in the seating accommodation, and the make of the car generally. There was a window which had a shutter to it high up in the garage looking into the side road, and a small window at the back looking into the garden which had no shutter. Quarles got on a stool to examine the frame of this window, and then inspected the cloths for cleaning and the towels which were in the garage.
"Come on. The interest of this place is soon exhausted," he said.
In less than a quarter of an hour we were walking along Connaught Road again.
"By the way, what is Dr. Coles"s address?" asked Quarles.
I gave it to him. It was a turning off Connaught Road.
"I shall go and see him, and then I have a call to make elsewhere. Come to Chelsea to-night, Wigan. Take my word for it, criminals are no cleverer than they used to be."
When I went to Chelsea that evening I found the professor and Zena waiting for me in the empty room. He was evidently impatient to talk.
"My brain may possibly require oiling, Wigan, but Zena"s questions are just as absurd as they ever were," he began. "She wanted to know why the lead had been packed so carelessly, and what use a dead body could be to any one. No bad points of departure for an inquiry. Now, when the coffin was opened after the knock had been heard, a little sawdust from the screw holes fell on the carpet. It was there when we went into the room this morning. We may reasonably argue that some sawdust must have fallen when the coffin was opened during the night. But no one seems to have noticed it."
"It might easily have escaped casual notice even if the thieves neglected to remove it, which is unlikely," I returned.
"It would not be so easy to remove, for the carpet is a thick one, and the thieves would be in a hurry, you know. Also there were wreaths about and I could find no trace of sawdust in them. But further, the screw holes show a clear, perfect thread which one would hardly expect if the coffin had been opened and closed again. Small points, but they promote speculation. Yesterday, before I met you in Queen"s Square, I went to see the undertakers, and the man who was in charge of the arrangements says emphatically that there was no sign of the coffin having been opened. A little sawdust was the first thing he looked for."
"Are you trying to prove that the lead was already in the coffin when it was taken to the drawing-room?" I asked.
"No. I am only trying to show that it is doubtful whether the coffin was opened in the drawing-room."
"The change could not have been made in the bedroom, or the lead would have slipped during the journey downstairs," I said.