"Medium chest measure," said Oakes. "Try it on, Stone."
I did so, and it just met around me.
"Good! The fellow who wore it is not a giant in chest measure, at all events, though larger than you, probably, since he wore it next to his undershirt."
"How in the world do you know that, Oakes?" said the doctor.
"Look at the discoloration of the lining on the shoulders, and also across the chest and back. The soil is old, but there is a moisture about the front yet, the moisture of fresh perspiration—it has been used quite recently. That would not have come through a coat or a vest. I should not be surprised if he had worn it over his naked chest."
"Where do you suppose the outfit came from?" I asked.
"Probably a relic of some masquerade ball of many years ago. This house used to be a popular place for entertainments."
"What did you pick up in the cellar when you stooped for the match?"
"Oh, you noticed that? See for yourselves," and he showed us an old-fashioned heavy-calibre cartridge.
"And how about the closet in the steps, from which you took the robe?" I pursued.