cut open the tin casing with some sharp instrument. There was
straw round the tin casing and straw within, amongst which the
body of the unfortunate young man was placed. Rigor mortis had
set in, and the corpse, with straight legs and hands placed
stiffly by its side, lay against the back of the tin casing
surrounded more or less by the straw packing, or at least by so
much as the Professor had not torn away. The face looked dark,
and the eyes were wide open and staring. Robinson stepped
forward and ran his hand round the neck. Uttering an
ejaculation, he removed the woollen scarf which the dead man had
probably worn to keep himself from catching cold, and those who
looked on saw that a red-colored window cord was tightly bound
about the throat of the dead.

"The poor devil has been strangled," said the doctor quietly.
"See: the assassin has left the bow-string on, and had the
courage to place over it this scarf, which belonged to Bolton."

"How do you know that, sir?" asked Painter heavily.

"Because Widow Anne knitted that scarf for Bolton before he went
to Malta. He showed it to me, laughingly, remarking that his
mother evidently thought that he was going to Lapland."

"When did he show it to you, sir?"

"Before he went to Malta, of course," said Robinson in mild
surprise. "You don't suppose he showed it to me when he
returned. When did he return to England?" he asked the
Professor, with an afterthought.