But there was still a look of defeat in his eyes; and again he began inspecting the room. Presently he went to an old dressing-table which stood against the wall opposite to the window. As he bent over to peer behind it he suddenly drew back and, lifting his head, sniffed several times. At the same moment he caught sight of something on the floor at his feet, and kicked it toward the centre of the room. We looked down at it with astonishment. It was a gas-mask of the kind used by chemists.
“Stand back, you chaps!” he ordered; and holding one hand to his nose and mouth he swung the dressing-table away from the wall. Directly behind it was a small cupboard door about three feet high, set into the wall. He wrenched it open and looked inside, then slammed it shut immediately.
Brief as was my view of the interior of the cupboard, I was able to glimpse its contents clearly. It was fitted with two shelves. On the lower one were several books lying open. On the upper shelf stood an Erlenmeyer flask clamped to an iron support, a spirit-lamp, a condenser tube, a glass beaker, and two small bottles.
Vance turned and gave us a despairing look.
“We may as well go: there’s nothing more here.”
We returned to the drawing-room, leaving Tracy to guard the door to the attic.
“Perhaps, after all, you were justified in your search,” acknowledged Markham, studying Vance gravely. “I don’t like such methods, however. If we hadn’t found the typewriter——”
“Oh, that!” Vance, preoccupied and restless, went to the window overlooking the archery range. “I wasn’t hunting for the typewriter—or the note-book, either. What do they matter?” His chin fell forward on his breast, and his eyes closed in a kind of lethargy of defeat. “Everything’s gone wrong—my logic has failed. We’re too late.”
“I don’t pretend to know what you’re grumbling about,” said Markham. “But at least you’ve supplied me evidence of a sort. I’ll now be able to arrest Arnesson when he returns from the university.”
“Yes, yes; of course. But I wasn’t thinking of Arnesson, or the arrest of the culprit, or the triumph of the District Attorney’s office. I was hoping——”