“Hole clear through it,” confided Landis in an undertone. “There’s a mark on the chimney beyond like a small caliber bullet. A Japanese arrow, shot very hard, might have made both and got blunted doing it. Get the idea of having a look through the butler’s rooms?”
“I believe so,” retorted Bernard dryly. “But we won’t find anything. Think the man who killed Harrison is a fool?”
“I don’t know yet,” Landis replied in his blandest tone. “But it’s worth looking. Not even excepting Miss Mount, Stimson had the best opportunity for trying out that Japanese bow up here without detection. He belongs up here and he’s in a position to know the exact whereabouts of everyone in the house at a given time.”
“And he probably can’t shoot for nuts,” growled Bernard. “He’d have to get the bow up here, too!”
Landis opened a door, felt for and found the switch. A standard lamp and a desk lamp flashed on together, showing them a pleasant but slightly austere little sitting-room.
Closing the door behind him, Landis made a bee-line for the waste-basket, whereupon Bernard laughed at him. The basket was quite empty. With smooth swiftness they searched the room, looking behind the books, ransacking the desk, probing the back and sides of the sofa and the easy chairs. They found nothing of interest and left everything else as they had found it.
Despite an ironical glance from Bernard, Landis proceeded to the adjacent bathroom and switched on the light.
A brief inspection here led them to the bedroom beyond. Growling a little, Bernard tackled the bureau and then the bed. Landis explored Stimson’s trunk which he found unlocked and then tried the clothes-closet. Here triumph of a sort awaited him. Bernard had just finished smoothing the bedclothes when a muffled exclamation from Landis drew his attention to the clothes-closet. Landis emerged holding aloft a suit of respectable dark gray. On the extended palm of his other hand lay a tiny bit of white feather.
“I was looking for bits of brick and found this, sir! It was in the small pocket of this cutaway. Thought you said we wouldn’t find anything!”
“My poor old rule of thumb!” retorted Bernard with too ready humility. He looked at the bit of feather. “Think it will fit?—Because I don’t!”