He indicated the hat next the window.
«Am I right, Graves — have I got the prize?»
«That is the hat in question, my lord,» said Mr. Graves, without excitement.
«Thanks,» said Lord Peter, «that's all I wanted to know. Ask Bunter to step up, would you?»
Mr. Bunter stepped up with an aggrieved air, and his usually smooth hair ruffled by the focussing cloth.
«Oh, there you are, Bunter,» said Lord Peter; «look here — »
«Here I am, my lord,» said Mr. Bunter, with respectful reproach, «but if you'll excuse me saying so, downstairs is where I ought to be, with all those young women about — they'll be fingering the evidence, my lord.»
«I cry you mercy,» said Lord Peter, «but I've quarrelled hopelessly with Mr. Parker and distracted the estimable Graves, and I want you to tell me what finger-prints you have found. I shan't be happy till I get it, so don't be harsh with me, Bunter.»
«Well, my lord, your lordship understands I haven't photographed them yet, but I won't deny that their appearance is interesting, my lord. The little book off the night table, my lord, has only the marks of one set of fingers — there's a little scar on the right thumb which makes them easy recognized. The hairbrush, too, my lord, has only the same set of marks. The umbrella, the toothglass and the boots all have two sets: the hand with the scarred thumb, which I take to be Sir Reuben's, my lord, and a set of smudges superimposed upon them, if I may put it that way, my lord, which may or may not be the same hand in rubber gloves. I could tell you better when I've got the photographs made, to measure them, my lord. The linoleum in front of the washstand is very gratifying indeed, my lord, if you will excuse my mentioning it. Besides the marks of Sir Reuben's boots which your lordship pointed out, there's the print of a man's naked foot — a much smaller one, my lord, not much more than a ten-inch sock, I should say if you asked me.»
Lord Peter's face became irradiated with almost a dim, religious light.