The sergeant assented with a faint grin, and stooping beside the tree in an attitude suggesting the game of leap frog, placed his hands firmly on his knees. Grasping a stout branch, Thorndyke swung himself up on the Sergeant’s broad back, whence he looked down into the crown of the tree. Then, parting the branches, he stepped onto the ledge and disappeared into the central hollow.
When he reappeared he held in his hands two very singular objects: a pair of iron crucible-tongs and an artist’s brush-case of black-japanned tin. The former article he handed down to me, but the brush-case he held carefully by its wire handle as he dropped to the ground.
“The significance of these things is, I think, obvious,” he said. “The tongs were used to handle the knife with and the case to carry it in, so that it should not scent his clothes or bag. It was very carefully planned.”
“If that is so,” said the inspector, “the inside of the case ought to smell of musk.”
“No doubt,” said Thorndyke; “but before we open it, there is a rather important matter to be attended to. Will you give me the Vitogen powder, Jervis?”
I opened the canvas-covered “research case” and took from it an object like a diminutive pepper-caster—an iodoform dredger in fact—and handed it to him. Grasping the brush-case by its wire handle, he sprinkled the pale yellow powder from the dredger freely all round the pulloff lid, tapping the top with his knuckles to make the fine particles spread. Then he blew off the superfluous powder, and the two police officers gave a simultaneous gasp of joy; for now, on the black background, there stood out plainly a number of finger-prints, so clear and distinct that the ridge-pattern could be made out with perfect ease.
“These will probably be his right hand,” said Thorndyke.
“Now for the left.” He treated the body of the case in the same way, and, when he had blown off the powder, the entire surface was spotted with yellow, oval impressions. “Now, Jervis,” said he, “if you will put on a glove and pull off the lid, we can test the inside.”
There was no difficulty in getting the lid off, for the shoulder of the case had been smeared with vaseline—apparently to produce an airtight joint—and, as it separated with a hollow sound, a faint, musky odour exhaled from its interior.
“The remainder of the inquiry,” said Thorndyke, when I pushed the lid on again, “will be best conducted at the police station, where, also, we can photograph these finger prints.”