sealing it up carefully. His next proceeding was to take out a
little notebook.

"We have found in this room," he said, writing busily, "six
points of interest. Shall I enumerate them, or will you?"

"Oh, you," I replied hastily.

"Very well, then. One, a coffee-cup that has been ground into
powder; two, a despatch-case with a key in the lock; three, a
stain on the floor."

"That may have been done some time ago," I interrupted.

"No, for it is still perceptibly damp and smells of coffee.
Four, a fragment of some dark green fabric--only a thread or two,
but recognizable."

"Ah!" I cried. "That was what you sealed up in the envelope."

"Yes. It may turn out to be a piece of one of Mrs. Inglethorp's
own dresses, and quite unimportant. We shall see. Five, _this_!"
With a dramatic gesture, he pointed to a large splash of candle
grease on the floor by the writing-table. "It must have been
done since yesterday, otherwise a good housemaid would have at
once removed it with blotting-paper and a hot iron. One of my
best hats once--but that is not to the point."

"It was very likely done last night. We were very agitated. Or
perhaps Mrs. Inglethorp herself dropped her candle."