"If we attempted to move the body," said the investigator, "I should not be surprised if we found it pinned to the floor. It took brawn to give that stroke; the man who dealt it made sure of the job."
With soft, quick steps he crossed the room. The doors of the safes were locked.
"If the purpose was robbery," said Ashton-Kirk, "the criminal evidently knew where to look for the most portable and valuable articles. There seems to be no indication of anything having been tampered—" He stopped short, his eyes upon a huge vellum covered tome which lay open upon the floor. He whistled softly between his teeth. "General Wayne once more!" he said.
The volume, as far as Pendleton could see, was a sort of scrap book in which had been fastened a great number of prints. Upon the two pages that they could see, six prints had been affixed by the corners. Of these, four had been torn out and lay upon the floor.
"Gambetta and John Bright have been spared," said Ashton-Kirk, pointing at the book, "but," and he gathered up the fragments of the mishandled prints, "upon Mad Anthony they laid violent hands four separate times."
Pendleton wrinkled his brow.
"Now what the deuce can it mean," he asked, vexedly. "Not only what did the fellow mean who did this, but what did he mean," pointing at the dead man, "by having so many portraits of General Wayne?"
"I think something might be found to point the way if we could only look for it," said Ashton-Kirk, his face alight with eagerness. "But we'll have to await the coroner's people."
"When will they come?"
The investigator shrugged his shoulders.