Oakes looked at us all coolly and exasperatingly. "He seems to be a little extra thrown in. I'll tell you all about it when you tell me if the 'S' on the handkerchief has anything to do with Mr. Skinner."
An exclamation of surprise went up. We had all forgotten that. But before we could resume, a message arrived for Oakes. It was brought by one of the men whom we knew so well by sight around the Mansion. He told of the finding of a burned tree, hidden in the forest, near the scene of the murder of Mr. Mark. Those who were searching had discovered that the tree was recently struck by lightning and that within its burned interior was ash.
The man had brought some with him, and also a small, crumpled piece of newspaper. Oakes looked carefully at them as we glanced over his shoulder.
"At last!" cried he. "Here is wood ash—wet, as was that on the robe; and here is paper like that of the 'Daily News,' which we found in the robe; is it not?"
"Yes," cried Moore. "It is indeed—can it be?"
"Yes," came the answer from Oakes; "my orders to search for the origin of the ash have been crowned with success. The robe was in that tree."
"But," I cried, "of what value is that?"
"Just this—the robe was not worn at the time of the murder. Remember, Joe did not see it—it had been hidden, probably. The murderer used it to go and to come in, but for some unknown reason discarded it at the shooting."
"Excuse me," said the messenger, "excuse me, Mr. Oakes—but that's about right. The tree was beyond the stone where he crossed and lost the handkerchief. He was running for the robe, sir; the murderer was after his disguise."
Oakes looked at his subordinate calmly and smiled ever so slightly. The man bowed and retreated, abashed at his own impetuosity.