While sergeant and constables were in counsel as to what course should be adopted, an inspector, who had been warned by the constable on guard at the front, arrived, and was told Langton’s story.
“This is Professor Greer’s,” he remarked; “I think we’d better force an entry, sergeant. That basement window down there looks easy of access,” and he pointed to a window of the back-kitchen.
“Yes,” replied the bearded man addressed, as a constable shone his lantern down upon it, “we could break the glass and turn back the catch. There are no bars there.”
This course was quickly adopted. The inspector, taking one of the men’s truncheons, tapped the glass lightly until he had cracked it, and then pulled the pieces forward till he could insert his hand and release the catch.
The window thus opened, the two constables, truncheons in hand and lights turned on, crept into the kitchen and disappeared, while we stood waiting anxiously without, our ears strained in listening.
A few moments later, one of the men threw open the front door, and together we entered the dark and silent house of mystery.
I stood back, passing into the wide hall last of all. There was now no hiding the grim, astounding truth from police and public.
I held my breath, awaiting the sensation that must be caused by the discovery.
As I anticipated, a discovery was made very quickly.
But, strangely enough, it was not at all what I had looked for. It only added further mystery to the altogether inscrutable problem.