"Come here," he said, bustling back into the room,
the atmosphere of which felt clearer since the removal
of its ghastly inmate. "Now, stand there!"

He struck a match on his boot and held it up against the wall.

"Look at that!" he said, triumphantly.

I have remarked that the paper had fallen away in parts.
In this particular corner of the room a large piece had peeled
off, leaving a yellow square of coarse plastering. Across
this bare space there was scrawled in blood-red letters a
single word --


RACHE.


"What do you think of that?" cried the detective, with the
air of a showman exhibiting his show. "This was overlooked
because it was in the darkest corner of the room, and no one
thought of looking there. The murderer has written it with
his or her own blood. See this smear where it has trickled
down the wall! That disposes of the idea of suicide anyhow.
Why was that corner chosen to write it on? I will tell you.
See that candle on the mantelpiece. It was lit at the time,
and if it was lit this corner would be the brightest instead
of the darkest portion of the wall."

"And what does it mean now that you _have_ found it?" asked