After peering through the broken pane, he proceeded to further experiments. He lifted the window, and it went up easily. He drew his deductions swiftly. Somebody had entered the empty house. That somebody had smashed the pane in order to get at the latch, had entered the house, later emerged through the window and forgotten to fasten it.
But why enter an empty house, where there was nothing to steal except the heavy furniture left by the late tenant, a Mr. Washington, who was abroad? Brown knew for a fact from the caretaker that all silver and plate had been lodged at Mr. Washington's bank. It was a puzzle.
One thing was clear: his duty lay straight before him. He must go over that empty house. A careful examination might reveal something or nothing.
But he was a very cautious man, and with no great belief in his own powers. He would not make the examination alone. He blew his whistle for further assistance.
In a few seconds, a fellow constable, a smart young fellow, hurried up to him. Brown pointed to the broken pane, the uplifted window. The smart young man projected himself through the open space. Brown followed, explaining as he went.
They searched the basement, the ground floor, and the floor above—with no result.
"Now for the caretaker," said the younger and the more quick-witted of the two policemen.
"He sleeps up at the top," answered Brown. "He generally comes home half-seas over. If a regiment was hammering at the door he would not wake till his sleep was done."
They went up to the caretaker's room on the top floor. The bed was empty. Miles had evidently taken a holiday.
The young constable grunted. "Seems a reliable sort of chap, doesn't he? I wonder how long he has been away? The house agents can tell us if they have sent any clients to view the house during the last twenty-four hours, and whether they have been able to get in or not. Anyway, for the present, he seems out of this job."