Landis started and instantly suppressed a glance of triumph toward his colleague. He looked at Susan instead.
“Is everybody at breakfast so early?” he asked.
“Yes, sir; everyone but yourselves and Mr. Graham.”
“All right, Susan. Thanks. We’ll be down directly.”
“I’ll tell her, sir.” Susan turned about and departed, with just a flicker of her long eyelashes to indicate to Landis that she was a human girl as well as a maid.
Bernard and Landis turned about, made their way down the little flight of stairs at the end of the hall and passed out the door at the foot, which led from the lower wing hall outdoors to the garage. They followed the path around the wing to the formal garden. Skirting the front of the wing and the side of the main building, it led them past the library windows to the side windows of the reception-room. Their route was invisible from the dining-room, invisible, therefore, to anyone in the house if Susan had told the truth. For Graham’s windows faced the back and all the others were at breakfast in the dining-room or in the back of the house.
Confidently, then, Landis scanned the sashes of the two reception-room windows, for the path led close to them. His inspection was instantly rewarded.
“There!” he cried and pointed.
The gesture was unnecessary. Bernard had already seen, on the lower sash of the window which Miss Mount had closed, a fresh indentation through paint and wood. It was a hole such as a fine nail would make or a heavy thumbtack.
“She was in the habit of closing that window every night,” said Bernard thoughtfully.