"That's it. I don't know. I can't even swear it was a person. Afterwards I thought it was probably a cat; there're dozens of cats in the neighbourhood, and they're fond of the place because Mrs. Charters has a female of loose morals next door. You see, I went downstairs, and turned on the lights, and looked all over the house. But nothing was disturbed and nothing missing, so far as I could see. I didn't say anything to Betty afterwards: thought it was all eyewash: you know? Why alarm her? Dammit."
"When you came down, did you look at the sash-window in there — hey?" H.M. nodded towards the surgery again.
Something was bothering Antrim a good deal. He was pinching at his lower lip, pinching it so far down that it exposed a gum, and he seemed to be considering hard. He said:
"Eh? No. That is, I never thought of it, because Something dashed funny here! I mean"
"Uh-huh. Now hop in there for a second and take a look at it. Then tell' me whether the damage done to that window would account for the cracking noise you heard."
None of the rest of us stirred. Antrim drew up his height, got to the surgery in three long strides, and did not take long before he returned.
"That's it," he told us curtly. "That's just what would have caused it. I should have thought it would have been louder than the noise I heard. But otherwise: yes. Quite. Look here, it's just occurred to me. I think that funny business with the bottles might have been-"
He had a trick of leaving off his sentences in mid air.
H.M. grunted. "I see. Yes, we'd thought of that. You're pretty sure someone busted in here during that night, then?
"I am. But-"