"It is possible," I returned. "His hands had done manual work, but not of an arduous kind. There were curious marks on the body, a discoloration under the arms, and the skin somewhat chafed. Also, on the outer side of the arms, there were marks just above the elbows—depressions rather than discolorations. A rope bound round the body might have produced the latter."
"There would have been marks upon the chest and back as well," said Quarles.
"I do not say it was a rope," I returned. "Have you any helpful theory, professor?"
For a few moments he had seemed keen—I should not have been surprised had he suggested our going to the empty room. Now he became apathetic, loose-minded, a man incapable of concentration. I had never known Quarles quite like this before.
"I will think of it. When I read the accounts in the papers, I thought I should like to assist you," he said slowly. "But it is impossible to-night. Zena is not here. I am an incomplete machine without her. You must have realized that, Wigan, by this time."
I have intimated before that the empty room, the listening for inspiration, and Quarles's faith in Zena's questions did not impress me very much. His excuse now I took as an intimation that he wanted to be alone.
"I will call at Mrs. Barrymore's to-morrow," I said as I rose to go.
"That's right; Lantern House, Richmond. And, by the way, Mr. Hastings—that is your name, remember—my granddaughter does not call herself Zena Quarles, but Mary Corbett. I have an old friend, Mrs. Corbett, and she has lent her name and her address for letters. Mrs. Barrymore may have heard of me from her mother, and mine is not a name easily forgotten. Besides——"
"I understand. You would help Mrs. Barrymore without her knowing it."
"There may be another reason. One does not advertise his financial difficulties if he can help it."