"Yes," said George, "I've had occasion to notice that myself."
"Well," said Stricket, who was very much interested, "go on. What else did you notice?"
"I saw one of her great heavy black slippers on the floor at the foot of the sofa; the mate was on the right foot. On the sofa, alongside the dead body, was a black walking-stick."
"Ah!" said Stricket, "that has been her constant companion for the past fifteen years. Without it she couldn't have hobbled across her saloon."
"Were the rooms themselves very much disturbed?" asked Old Spicer.
"If the whole basement and its contents had been lifted right up and then scattered by a cyclone it could not have been in a more confused condition. I tell you, gentlemen, a house and its contents were never more thoroughly ransacked. Why, the solitary bedroom, where Cohen said Mrs. Ernst had slept for the past quarter of a century, was actually turned inside out. The bedtick was ripped open, and what it inclosed had been very industriously examined.
"The murderer or murderers made pretty thorough work of it, eh?" said Stricket, inquiringly.
"Of the bed?"
"Yes."
"From the way they went through it, Seth, I have precious little doubt they had good reason to believe the old woman had a big pile of money hid in the stuffing of that ticking."