"Nobody has been permitted to go upstairs, I presume?"
"Only the coroner's man, who came for the body. And they touched nothing but the body. Our orders were strong on that."
"Has anything been heard as the result of the post-mortem?"
"It showed that Hume was in bad shape from too much drink. Then he had a hard knock on the head, and the wound in his chest."
"But there was no sign of a bullet wound?"
"No," said Paulson, surprised. "Nothing like that."
"Just a moment," said the investigator to Pendleton. He crossed the street, walked along for a few paces, then paused at the curb and looked back toward Hume's doorway. Then he returned with quick steps and an alert look in his eyes.
"Now we'll go upstairs," he said.
But before doing so he stopped and examined the lock of the street door closely; then he mounted the stairs slowly, his glances seeming to take in everything. At the top he paused, his head bent, apparently in deep thought. Then he lifted it suddenly, and laughed exultantly.
"That's it," he said, "I'm quite sure that is it."