The marks that had been drawn round the blood spots at the scene of the crime were still faintly visible, and Wise knelt down to study them. It seemed utterly useless to Bates, for what could possibly be gained from scrutinizing the floor where the dead man had lain?
Yet Pennington Wise found something!
The body had fallen at the base of one of the great onyx columns, near the side wall of the lobby. In fact, the head and shoulders had fallen against the wall, as if the victim had been driven back by his pursuers till he could go no farther.
And, after scanning the floor, Wise’s eyes traveled on to the onyx wall itself, to the heavy surbase of wide, smooth onyx blocks, and on the pinkish, mottled surface his trained eyes descried a pencil mark.
“Gee!” he cried, explosively, “oh, I say!”
Quickly he ran for the paper the dead man left, stripped from it the protecting glass panes, and with the utmost care he laid the paper itself against the onyx block that showed a pencil mark.
His eyes bulged with surprise, his face flushed with excitement, and he jumped up from the floor, where he had pursued his quest unnoticed save for a disinterested passer-by.
“Bates!” he cried, as he returned to the little reception-room and found the young man still there and still in deep dejection, “Oh, Bates!”
“What?” and Richard lifted his head to see the excited detective brandishing the paper in a wave of triumph.
“What do you think? Listen, man, put your whole mind on this! When Sir Herbert was stabbed he fell to the floor.”