Baddeley entered, the rest of us following him.
“Is this the dressing-table where the case was?” Lady Considine replied in the affirmative.
“It’s near the window. Quite an easy entrance from outside.” He walked to the window and measured with his eyes the distance to the ground. “Is the window left open during the day?”
“Quite possibly, Inspector. As you see, it’s of the casement type.”
He examined it. “No signs of its having been forced,” he pronounced.
“I presume the door is open during the day?”
“It’s closed, of course, but not locked, if that’s what you mean.”
“I see! Most people in the house would have a fairly reasonable opportunity of access to the room—eh?”
“I suppose they would,” admitted Sir Charles, reluctantly. “This may sound as though we are confoundedly careless, Inspector, but we’ve always considered ourselves remote from crime. That’s the only explanation I can give.”
“Surely you don’t suspect anyone here ...” broke in Dick Arkwright. “I’m beginning to think those footsteps I was yammering about were made by real feet. And I feel very relieved to think that I told you.”