"Kennedy," he began, almost trembling with excitement, "look at
that safe door."

We looked. It had been drilled through in such a way as to break
the combination. It was a heavy door, closely fitting, and it was
the best kind of small safe that the state of the art had
produced. Yet clearly it had been tampered with, and
successfully. Who was this scientific cracksman who had
apparently accomplished the impossible? It was no ordinary hand
and brain which had executed this "job."

Fletcher swung the door wide, and pointed to a little compartment
inside, whose steel door had been jimmied open. Then out of it he
carefully lifted a steel box and deposited it on the library
table.

"I suppose everybody has been handling that box?" asked Craig
quickly.

A smile flitted across Fletcher's features. "I thought of that,
Kennedy," he said. "I remembered what you once told me about
finger-prints. Only myself has touched it, and I was careful to
take hold of it only on the sides. The will was placed in this
box, and the key to the box was usually in the lock. Well, the
will is gone. That's all; nothing else was touched. But for the
life of me I can't find a mark on the box, not a finger-mark. Now
on a hot and humid summer night like last night I should say it
was pretty likely that anyone touching this metal box would have
left finger-marks. Shouldn't you think so, Kennedy?"