Left to myself I cast a cursory glance over his shelves. There
were a number of small glass jars containing earthy substances,
labeled "Pavement and Road Sweepings," from the principal
thoroughfares and suburbs of London, with the sub-directions "for
identifying foot-tracks." There were several other jars, labeled
"Fluff from Omnibus and Road Car Seats," "Cocoanut Fibre and Rope
Strands from Mattings in Public Places," "Cigarette Stumps and
Match Ends from Floor of Palace Theatre, Row A, 1 to 50."
Everywhere were evidences of this wonderful man's system and
perspicacity.

I was thus engaged when I heard the slight creaking of a door, and
I looked up as a stranger entered. He was a rough-looking man,
with a shabby overcoat and a still more disreputable muffler around
his throat and the lower part of his face. Considerably annoyed at
his intrusion, I turned upon him rather sharply, when, with a
mumbled, growling apology for mistaking the room, he shuffled out
again and closed the door. I followed him quickly to the landing
and saw that he disappeared down the stairs. With my mind full of
the robbery, the incident made a singular impression upon me. I
knew my friend's habit of hasty absences from his room in his
moments of deep inspiration; it was only too probable that, with
his powerful intellect and magnificent perceptive genius
concentrated on one subject, he should be careless of his own
belongings, and no doubt even forget to take the ordinary
precaution of locking up his drawers. I tried one or two and found
that I was right, although for some reason I was unable to open one
to its fullest extent. The handles were sticky, as if some one had
opened them with dirty fingers. Knowing Hemlock's fastidious