“North window closed?”
“Yes, as you see it now.”
“And west one open?”
“Nothing has been changed, I tell you, except this.” Sedgwick’s hand, outstretched toward the destroyed portrait, condensed itself involuntarily into a knotty fist.
“The lock of the door hasn’t been tampered with,” said Kent. “As for this open window,” he leaned out, looking around, “any man gaining access here must have used a ladder, which is unlikely in broad daylight.”
“How about a pass-key for the door?”
“There’s a simpler solution nearer at hand, I fancy. You didn’t chance to notice that things have happened to the coat, as well as to the easel.”
“Then the invader went through the coat and, not finding what he was looking for, smashed my picture,” cried Sedgwick.
“Through the coat, certainly,” agreed Kent, with his quiet smile. “Now hang it across the chair back just as it was, please.”
Sedgwick took the Norfolk jacket from him. “Why, there’s a hole through it!” he exclaimed.