Fingers long, slim, and delicate, save at the nails, where, with the exception of the little finger, are to be found unmistakable signs of the habit of biting the nails, - see, here are the hang-nails, - but, strange to say, the nail of the little finger has been spared, and suffered to grow to an unusual length.I ask myself why this particular nail has been so favoured, and can only answer, 'because it has some peculiar use.' It is clear this is not the hand of a manual labourer; the joints are too small, the fingers too delicate, the texture of the skin, which is clearly visible, much too fine - in short, wouldn't it pass anywhere for a woman's hand? Say a woman who bit her nails.If it were really such there would be a pair of feminine feet also to be concealed, and boards would do it very nicely - but this is all guesswork, and must not be allowed to affect any subsequent conclusions.If you will excuse me a few minutes I will use the microscope a little on the sill of the east window before we are interrupted by our friends the officers, who will be sure to be here soon."While Maitland was thus engaged I did all in my power to distract Gwen's attention, as much as possible, from her father's body.
Whenever she regarded it, the same intense and set expression overspread her countenance as that which at first had alarmed me.
I was glad when Maitland returned from the window and began mixing some of the chemicals I had brought him, for Gwen invariably followed all his movements, as if her very existence depended upon her letting nothing escape her.Maitland, who had asked me for a prescription blank, now dipped it in the chemicals he had mixed and, this accomplished, put the paper in his microscope box to dry.
"I have something here," ,he said, "which I desire to photograph quite as much as this room and some of its larger objects," and he pinned a tiny, crumpled mass against the wall, and made an exposure of it in that condition."Do you know what this is?" he said, as he carefully smoothed it out for another picture."I haven't the slightest idea," I said."It is plain enough under the microscope,"he continued, placing it upon the slide, and adjusting the focus.
"Would you like to examine it, Miss Darrow?" Gwen had scarcely put her eye to the instrument before she exclaimed: "Why, it's a piece of thin outside bark from a twig of alder." Maitland's face was a study..."Would you mind telling me," he said deliberately, "how you found that out so quickly?" She hesitated a moment, and then said methodically, pointing toward the water, "I know the alder well - our boat is moored near a clump of them." "You are a keen observer," he replied, as he took the prepared paper from his box and spread the film of bark upon it to take a blue print of it.
"There is one other object upon the sill which, unfortunately, Icannot take away with me," he continued, "but shall have to content myself with photographing.I refer to a sinuous line made in the paint, while green, and looking as if a short piece of rope, or, more properly, rubber tubing, since there is no rope-like texture visible, had been dropped upon it, and hastily removed - but see, here are Osborne and Allen looking for all the world as if they were prepared to demonstrate a fourth dimension of space.Now we shall see the suicide theory proved - to their own satisfaction, at least.But, whatever they say, don't forget we are to keep our own work to ourselves."The two officers were alone.had apparently decided to work by himself.This did not in the least surprise me, since I could easily see that he had nothing to gain by working with these two officers.
"We've solved the matter," was the first thing Osborne said after passing the time of day."Indeed?" replied Maitland in a tone which was decidedly ambiguous; "you make it suicide, I suppose?" "That's just what we make it," returned the other."We hadn't much doubt of it last night, but there were some things, such as the motive, for example, not quite clear to us; but it is all as plain as daylight now.""And what says ?" asked Maitland.
Mr.Osborne burst into a loud guffaw.
"Oho, but that's good! What says ? I say, Allen, Maitland wants to know what 'Frenchy' says," and the pair laughed boisterously.
"It's plain enough you don't know ," he continued, addressing Maitland."He's tighter 'n any champagne bottle you ever saw.The corkscrew ain't invented that '11 draw a word out of.You saw him making notes here last night.Well, the chances are that if this were a murder case, which it isn't, you'd see no more of M.
Godin till he bobbed up some day, perhaps on the other side of the earth, with a pair of twisters on the culprit.He's a 'wiz,' is M.
Godin.What does he think? He knows what he thinks, and he's the only individual on the planet that enjoys that distinction.I say, Allen, do you pump 'Frenchy' for the gentleman's enlightenment," and again the pair laughed long and heartily.
"Well, then," said Maitland, "since we can't have 's views we shall have to content ourselves with those of your more confiding selves.Let's hear all about the suicide theory.""I think," said Osborne in an undertone, "you had better ask Miss Darrow to withdraw for a few moments, as there are some details likely to pain her." This suggestion was intended only for Maitland, but the officer, used to talking in the open air, spoke so loudly that we all overheard him."I thank you for your consideration,"Gwen said to him, "but I would much prefer to remain.There can be nothing connected with this matter which I cannot bear to hear, or should not know.Pray proceed."Osborne, anxious to narrate his triumph, needed no further urging.
