"I haven't told you any," I said, in some surprise; "but we certainly have several."
He listened with the greatest attention, while I told him in rapid succession of the key, the time-table, the ticket stubs, the torn telegram, the handkerchief, and finally, the missing money.
"Have you traced these to their sources?" he inquired.
"We have, and each one led to a different man."
I then told him of Jonathan Scudder, of Graham Leroy, of James Decker, and of William Sydney Gresham, and he listened with a half-smile on his pleasant, responsive face.
"Of course you can see all these clues for yourself," I went on, "and I feel sure, Mr. Stone, that by an examination of them, you can deduce much of the personality of the criminal."
"I don't care to see them," was his astonishing answer; "I have already deduced from them the evidence that they clearly show."
"Your statement would amaze me," I said, "except that I had resolved not to be surprised at anything you might say or do, for I know your methods are mysterious and your powers little short of miraculous."
"Don't credit me with supernatural ability, Mr. Landon," said Stone, smiling genially. "Let me compliment you on the graphic way in which you have described that collection of clues. I can fairly see them, in my mind's eye lying before me. Were not the ticket stubs bent and broken and a good deal soiled?"
"They were," I said, staring at him.