The doctor’s rumpled, threadbare suit indicated no stress of calls to make. Impressed by Bernard’s name, he expressed his willingness to wait a little longer. Landis, who had been looking absently about, thanked him and led Bernard and Graham on down the room.
At the far end, the platform on the left supported a suit of golden armor of the solid, tournament type, the breast-plate and closed visor each embossed with a crown. Landis veered toward the other platform on which stood the harness of a Samurai warrior encasing a lay figure. In contrast with the gold on steel opposite, the woven silk of the Japanese armor and its lacquered, overlapping scales of papier-mâché appeared ridiculously light.
Landis was not interested in comparisons. From the shoulders of the Japanese figure hung a quiver containing three arrows, points downward, their projecting shafts fletched with short white feathers. Leaning against the figure, but not attached to it, stood a long, asymmetrical Japanese bow, strung and taut.
From a chair close at hand a police sergeant had come to his feet. Graham introduced him as Sergeant Forbes of the local force. The man saluted and shook hands with both detectives, eyeing Bernard with veiled interest. If he resented this intrusion from city headquarters, his terse, matter-of-fact greeting gave no indication of it.
“Seems a difficult case, Sergeant,” observed Landis cordially. “We’re going to need all the help you can give us.”
Sergeant Forbes flushed a little.
“You can rely on me for that, Lieutenant,” he replied gruffly.
“How long have you been on guard here?”
“I’ve kept that bow under my eye ever since I arrived, about ten minutes after the murder,” answered the sergeant. “Nobody’s touched it since I came.”
Landis turned to Graham.