My heart stood still when I saw them. Were either of them exactly similar to any of those I carried with me? I almost feared to allow comparison to be made.
Edwards, noticing my hesitation, asked in what quarter my efforts had been directed.
"I've been getting some finger-prints, that's all," I blurted forth, and from my pocket drew the large envelope containing the prints.
The detective took them across to the window and regarded them very closely for some time, while I looked eagerly over his shoulder.
The curves and lines were extremely puzzling to me, unaccustomed as I was to them. Edwards, too, remained in silent indecision.
"We'll send them along to Inspector Tirrell in the Finger-print Department," my friend said at last. "He's an expert, and will tell at a glance if any marks are the same as ours."
Then he rang a bell, and a constable, at his instructions, carried all the prints to the department in question.
"Well, Mr. Royle," exclaimed the inspector when the door had closed; "how did you obtain those prints?"
I was ready for his question, and a lie was at once glibly upon my lips.
"Sir Digby, on the night of his disappearance, returned to me a small steel despatch box which he had borrowed some weeks before; therefore, after the affair, I examined it for finger-prints, with the result I have shown you," I said.