“No, sir! There is no clue. It happened at almost exactly the same time as before. The back of the house was unguarded as before, thanks to the removal of the police.”
Catching the note of reproach in Stimson’s voice, Landis glanced at the man sharply.
“And the members of the household?” he inquired with a certain dryness.
“In their rooms as before, sir.”
“You’ve called the local police?”
“No, sir. Both Miss Mount and Mr. Graham preferred to await your return. I phoned for the doctor only.”
Without further parley Landis went to the telephone and summoned Sergeant Forbes and two patrolmen. They waited grimly in the deserted library until the police arrived, posted the sergeant at the rear door of that room and sent the policemen to patrol the grounds. In the meantime they had examined the Japanese bow, which Landis had left unstrung. It was strung again and another Japanese arrow was missing. An inspection under the light showed no trace of finger-prints on bow or quiver. Both shone as though recently polished.
At Stimson’s suggestion they also visited, while they waited, the little reception-room. There were no traces of blood on the door-sill between the two rooms but they found a mark on the front wall of the smaller room to show where the deflected arrow had struck almost broadside on and dropped to the carpet. Even at that angle, the sharp arrowhead had cut a deep gash in the heavy wallpaper and plaster beneath. The arrow, unblunted, lay where it had fallen. Landis picked it up by one vane and carried it to the light. Blood clung to the sharp metal of the long, elliptical head, filmed the shaft and had darkened the feathers. If the shaft had borne finger-prints no trace of them remained.
Landis replaced the arrow where he had found it and with Bernard mounted at once to Graham’s room, leaving the sergeant to keep watch on the ground floor.