"Trance? What do you mean, Boyne? She doesn't go into a trance."
"That—that—whatever she does," I corrected rather helplessly.
"Never mind, Mr. Boyne," said the girl. "It isn't clairvoyance or anything like that, however it looks."
"But I wouldn't have believed any human eyes could have found that thing. I discovered it only by sense of touch—and that after you told me to hunt for it. You saw it when I was showing you the latch, did you?"
"Oh, I didn't see it." She shook her head. "I found it when I was sitting up there on the roof."
"Guessed at it?"
"I never guess." Indignantly. "When I'd cleared my mind of everything else—had concentrated on just the facts that bore on what I wanted to know—how that man with the suitcase got out of the room and left it locked behind him—I deduced the hole in the sash by elimination."
"By elimination?" I echoed. "Show me."
"Simple as two and two," she assented. "Out of the door? No; Mrs. Griggsby; so out of the window. Down? No; you told why; he would be seen; so, up. Ladder? No; too big for one man to handle or to hide; so a rope."
"But the hole in the sash?"