"You wouldn't have heard it in any case, Mr. Drake. You were sound asleep. I got ready. I thought it was creeping towards you. Anyway, it wasn't. My eyes were enough used to the dark so I could make out the outlines of the doors in the wall. Just so! You remember, I told you last night there was a little camera trick that might interest you?"
"Yes! What about it?"
"Ordinary camera," Masters said, "borrowed from the local police. Infra-red film, infra-red bulb, from the chemist at Brayle. Useful to have along with you. Take photographs in the dark; not a glimmer to show you're taking 'em. If you know where to aim a camera.
'1 could see that the end door opposite the bale-mountain— Mr. Drake was sleeping against the same wall about ten feet from the door — started to open. Soft as soft! And wider. No sense for me to yell lum's name if nothing was after Mr. Drake. I snapped a picture at the door before it closed.
"We-el," resumed Masters, tapping the brief-case on the table beside him, "I got the print from the chemist this morning. Not a good picture, no. But a picture of Enid Puckston."
"Of, what did you say?"
"Of Enid Puckston," repeated Masters, and tapped the briefcase again. "Creeping in backwards. Facing the camera. On tip-toe," Master's face darkened, "and with a 'What larks!' delighted look. Like a kid playing a prank. Somebody's hand was on her arm, drawing her in."
Masters drew a deep breath.
"And this," Martin demanded, "was at a quarter to one in the morning?"
"That's right And — come now! Blimy-O'Reilly! Can't you see the trick of it?"