THE CLUE
The body of Harry Horton had been removed from the studio and this it seemed made Moira's task less painful. But she was now armed with a desperate courage which even the sight of Harry's mangled body would not have dismayed. And the thought that her keenness of perception, her intelligence, her woman's instinct were the only weapons she had with which to combat the scepticism of this skillful detective and save Jim Horton from the perils of impending indictment for murder, gave her a sense of responsibility which keyed her faculties to their utmost and drove from her heart all terrors of her situation. She must succeed where Monsieur Matthieu had failed. Instinct would guide her, instinct and faith. Monsieur Matthieu, if not her enemy, was prejudiced in favor of a pre-conceived idea which every bit of evidence justified, and yet there must be other evidence—clues neglected, trifles overlooked—and she must find them out.
The burden of the testimony against Jim Horton would fall if she could prove it physically possible for some one to have been in the studio while Jim Horton and Piquette had waited outside. This was her object—nothing else seemed to matter.
On the way to the Rue de Tavennes in a cab Monsieur Simon replied politely to her questions, giving her all the information she desired, while Monsieur Matthieu sat opposite. How she hated the man! His smile patronized, his reddish hair inflamed her. She could see that in his mind Jim Horton was already convicted. But when they reached the porte cochère of Madame Toupin, Monsieur Simon handed her gravely down and Monsieur Matthieu led the way up the stair to the studio where a policeman was still on guard. Moira followed the Commissaire closely and stood for a moment on the threshold of the room while Monsieur Matthieu unbent enough to show her where the body lay and to indicate the locked door and the chair which had been overturned. To Moira these matters were already unimportant, since she saw no reason to deny the testimony of the many witnesses on these points. She entered the room slowly, with a feeling of some awe, and for a moment stood by the fireplace, glancing from one object to the other, thinking deeply. A dark stain on the rug, just before her, gave her a tremor, but she recovered herself immediately and walked slowly around the room, examining each object as though she had never seen it before.
"Does Madame wish to look in the apartment or the kitchenette?" she heard Monsieur Matthieu's voice asking.
But she shook her head. The answer to the mystery lay here—in this very room. She was already satisfied as to that.
"Is this room in the precise condition in which it was found when the police first arrived?" she asked coolly.
"Yes, Madame, except for the removal of the body, nothing has been disturbed."
"You are sure of this?"
"I am, Madame. It is for this reason that a policeman has been always on guard."