"I must leave you to consider the facts at your leisure; but you will have noticed the ostensible reason for her remaining behind. She is engaged in puttying up the one gaping joint in their armour. One of them has been indiscreet enough to give this address to some correspondent—probably a foreign correspondent. Now, as they obviously wish to leave no tracks, they cannot give their new address to the Post Office to have their letters forwarded, and, on the other hand, a letter left in the box might establish such a connection as would enable them to be traced. Moreover, the letter might be of a kind that they would not wish to fall into the wrong hands. They would not have given this address excepting under some peculiar circumstances."
"No, I should think not, if they took this house for the express purpose of committing a crime in it."
"Exactly. And then there is one other fact that you may have gathered from our young friend's remarks."
"What is that?"
"That a controllable squint is a very valuable asset to a person who wishes to avoid identification."
"Yes, I did note that. The fellow seemed to think that it was absolutely conclusive."
"And so would most people; especially in the case of a squint of that kind. We can all squint towards our noses, but no normal person can turn his eyes away from one another. My impression is that the presence or absence, as the case might be, of a divergent squint would be accepted as absolute disproof of identity. But here we are."
He inserted the key into the wicket of the large gate, and, when we had stepped through into the covered way, he locked it from the inside.
"Why have you locked us in?" I asked, seeing that the wicket had a latch.
"Because," he replied, "if we now hear any one on the premises we shall know who it is. Only one person besides ourselves has a key."