"I trust," said Stillman, "that you have disturbed nothing."
"Except for gathering up a few scattered pictures in the bedroom, we have done nothing but look," assured Ashton-Kirk.
"I find that the exact conditions must remain if we are to secure even a fairly good idea of the crime's environments," stated Stillman, nervously. "It is a thing that I insist upon from the police in every instance."
"Sure, sure," said Osborne. "Headquarters does its best never to make trouble for you, Mr. Stillman."
The nervous young coroner seemed to be relieved to hear this. He waved his hand in a gesture that might have meant anything and turned to the stolid looking, elderly man who accompanied them. They conversed for a few moments; the stolid man seemed to be explaining something carefully, to which Stillman listened with the utmost attention. Osborne bent his head toward Ashton-Kirk.
"The old party is a left-over in the coroner's office, of many years' standing," said the detective. "He knows the ropes and puts the newly elected ones on to the points of the game."
Stillman finally turned; there was an added importance in his manner, and his nervousness had also increased.
"Mr. Osborne," said he, "please let us have what facts the police have gathered."
"That won't take long," said Osborne. "Just before daylight—three o'clock, I think she said—the woman whom Hume employed to scrub the passage-way and stairs got here. She has almost a dozen such jobs in the neighborhood, and as she must have them all done before business begins, she's compelled to get at it early. She has a key to the street door; so she let herself in, came up these stairs and started for the far end of the hall, where there is a water tap. She didn't notice anything unusual until she returned with her pail filled; then she saw this door," pointing to that of the store room, "standing open."
"I see," said Mr. Stillman; and he gazed very hard at the door.