"No," Geoffrey replied. "The grate is a large open one. I will see what I can find."
The young fellow searched minutely. For some time no reward awaited his pains. Then his eyes fell upon the hearthstone.
"I can only see one little thing," he said.
"In a business like this, there are no such matters as little things," Ralph replied. "A clue that might stand on a pin's point often leads to great results. Tell me what it is that attracts your attention."
"A bronze stain on the hearthstone. It is about the size of the palm of one's hand. It looks very like a piece of glue dabbed down."
"Take a knife and scrape it up," said Ralph. He spoke slowly and evidently under excitement well repressed. "Wrap it in your handkerchief and give it to me. Has the stuff any particular smell?"
"Yes," said Geoffrey. "It has a sickly sweet odor. I am sure that I never smelt anything like it before."
"Probably not. There, I have no further need of your services, and I know that Vera is waiting for you. One word before you go—you are not to say a single word to a soul about this matter; not a single soul, mind. And now I do not propose to detain you any longer."
Geoffrey retired with a puzzled air. When the echo of his footsteps had died away, Ralph rose and crept out upon the leads. He was shivering with excitement; there was a look of eager expectation, almost of triumph, on his face.
He felt his way along the leads until he came to a group of chimneys, about the center one of which he fumbled with his hands for some time.