“You’re right, Nick,” agreed Fallon. “There is no denying it.”
“Take it from me, too, the man’s hand was not injured.”
“But why that bandage, then?”
“For some other reason,” Nick said dryly. “What that reason was, Fallon, remains to be learned. It would be a waste of time for us to try to guess it.”
“I agree with you.”
“The blood on the outside of the bandage evidently came from the man’s right hand, moreover, which I already have pointed out was stained, not after, but before he entered this door. This mysterious bandage confirms my previous deductions.”
“By Jove, it’s a perplexing mess,” said Fallon, brows knitted. “I cannot fathom why the scoundrel’s right hand was soiled with blood before he entered this house. Why it afterward may have been is simple enough.”
“Let’s go a step farther,” said Nick, thrusting the string and bandage into his pocket.
He then began a careful examination of the veranda floor, but he could find no tracks, nor evidence of any description.
Leaving the veranda, Nick then inspected the walk leading out to the street, also the neatly trimmed lawn adjoining it. The gravel walk retained no footprints, but Nick had taken only a few steps when, abruptly halting, he pointed to the greensward.