“Yes, sir. They are the dead man’s spectacles, and you found them where the body had been.”
“Very well,” said Thorndyke; “now observe;” and, as the two officials craned forward with parted lips, he laid the little splinter in a gap in one of the lenses and then gave it a gentle push forward, when it occupied the gap perfectly, joining edge to edge with the adjacent fragments and rendering that portion of the lens complete.
“My God!” exclaimed the inspector. “How on earth did you know?”
“I must explain that later,” said Thorndyke. “Meanwhile we had better have a look inside the house. I expect to find there a cigarette—or possibly a cigar—which has been trodden on, some whole-meal biscuits, possibly a wooden vesta, and perhaps even the missing hat.”
At the mention of the hat, the inspector stepped eagerly to the back door, but, finding it bolted, he tried the window. This also was securely fastened and, on Thorndyke’s advice, we went round to the front door.
“This door is locked too,” said the inspector. “I’m afraid we shall have to break in. It’s a nuisance, though.”
“Have a look at the window,” suggested Thorndyke.
The officer did so, struggling vainly to undo the patent catch with his pocket-knife.
“It’s no go,” he said, coming back to the door. “We shall have to——” He broke off with an astonished stare, for the door stood open and Thorndyke was putting something in his pocket.
“Your friend doesn’t waste much time—even in picking a lock,” he remarked to me, as we followed Thorndyke into the house; but his reflections were soon merged in a new surprise. Thorndyke had preceded us into a small sitting-room dimly lighted by a hanging lamp turned down low.