“The next thing I remember,” Ernest continued, “was feeling sleepy. I put away the papers, put them all back in the safe again and locked it up. Then I thought I’d go to bed. I always go out for a breath of fresh air before I go to my room at night—if it isn’t raining—so I went to the window and looked out. It was quite dry; so I made up my mind to go for my usual stroll. I don’t go far, you know, just up and down a little near the house. It seems to me that a breath of fresh air clears your lungs and makes you sleep better after you’ve had it. I’m a great believer in fresh air. I hate sitting in a stuffy room—must have the windows open always.”
“So you went out?”
“Yes. I put on a light overcoat and a cap and I opened the front door. It was locked when I found it—I suppose that’s important?”
Sir Clinton made no audible comment.
“I went out into the garden and strolled round the house. That took me under the window of the room where Neville—my brother—had been sleeping during his stay here. And, d’you know? I found a ladder sticking up against the wall there and resting against Neville’s window-sill. And when I looked up, there was the window open!”
Sir Clinton interrupted him.
“Was there a light in the room?”
Ernest blinked hopelessly for a moment or two.
“Was there a light? There may have been. Did I say anything about a light to you, Stenness, when I waked you up? No? Well, I don’t think there was a light. There may have been, but now I come to think of it I don’t remember seeing a light. No, I’m almost sure the electric light wasn’t on in the room. I’d have noticed that. I’d have seen that at once. No, there was no light.”
Wendover intervened with a suggestion.