'We must burst the door in,' I said; 'it hasn't a very heavy lock.'
We accordingly applied our shoulders to the door, and gave a vigorous push. The lock yielded perceptibly. I then crashed my heel against the woodwork just over the keyhole, and the door flew open. We immediately detected a most peculiar odour.
'It's the broken bottles,' muttered Harborne. 'The switch is over against the wall by the bookcase; we must go straight for that.'
Cautiously we stepped into the darkness, and at the third or fourth step there was a crackling of glass underfoot.
My boot slipped where some sticky substance lay, and I gave an involuntary shudder. A moment later I heard an exclamation of disgust.
'The wall is all wet!' said Harborne.
Then he found the electric buttons, and turned on the lights in rapid succession.
Heavens! How can I describe the picture revealed! Never have I witnessed such a scene of chaos, fearsome in its indications of an incredible struggle.
At first glance the place gave an impression of having been wantonly wrecked by a madman. Scarcely a jar or bottle remained upon the shelves, all being strewn in fragments upon the floor, which was simply swimming in the spilled spirits and preservatives. The door of the case that had contained the specimens of bacilli was wide open, and the glass completely smashed. The priceless contents were presumably to be sought among the hundred and one objects lying in the liquid on the floor.
Most of the books from the shelf were distributed about the place as though they had been employed as missiles, and one huge volume was wedged up under the frosted glass of the skylight in the centre of the roof.
In the wood of the partition a lancet was stuck, and a horribly suggestive streak linked it with a red pool upon the floor. A table was overturned, and the two lamps immediately above it were broken. Of Professor Brayme- Skepley there was no sign, but his hat and fur coat hung upon a hook where he had evidently placed them on entering.
For some time we surveyed the scene in silence. Then Harborne spoke.
'What are these marks on the wall?' he said. 'They are still wet. And where is the Professor?'
The marks alluded to were a series of impressions in the shape of irregular rings passing from the pool on the floor to the four walls and up the walls to where the shadows of the lamp shades rendered it impossible to follow them. I pulled down a lamp, and turned the shade upwards, whereupon was revealed a thing that caused me a sudden nausea.
The marks extended right to the top of the wall, and could furthermore be distinguished upon the ceiling; and on the framework of the skylight was the reddish-brown impression of a human hand!
'Drop it!' said Harborne huskily. 'If we stay here much longer we shall have no pluck left for looking behind the partition.'
The northern end of the laboratory is partitioned off to form a narrow apartment, which runs from side to side of the building, but is only some six feet in width. It is lined with shelves whereon are stored the greater part of the materials used in experiments, and is lighted by a square window at the Spindle Lane end, beneath which is a sink. The partition does not run flush up to the western wall, but only to within three feet of it, leaving an opening connecting the storeroom with the laboratory proper. There are two electric lamps in the place, one over the sink, and the other in the centre; but they cannot be turned on from the laboratory, the switch being behind the partition. Consequently the storeroom was in darkness, and, ignorant of what awful thing might be lurking there, we yet, in justice to the missing man, had no alternative but to enter.
Harborne, whose pallor can have been no greater than my own, strode quickly up the laboratory, and passed through the opening in the partition. I following closely behind. I heard the click of the electric switch; but only one lamp became lighted. That over the sink was broken.
We were both, I think, anticipating some gruesome sight; but, singular to relate, the only abnormal circumstance that at first came under our notice was that of the broken lamp. A sudden draught of air, damp and cold, that set the other shade swinging drew our attention to the fact that the window had been pulled right away from its fastenings and lay flat down against the wall. Then Harborne detected the gruesome tracks right along the centre of the floor; and under the window we made a further discovery The wall all round the casement was smeared with blood, and the marks of a clutching hand showed in all directions.
'Good heavens!' I muttered; 'this is horrible! It looks as though he had been dragged--'
There was a queer catch in Harborne's voice as he answered: 'We must get out a party to scour the marshes.'
'Hark!' I said. 'Jamieson has been knocking some of them up. Here they come across the quad.'
A moment later an excited group was surveying the strange scene in the laboratory.
'Clear out and get lanterns, you fellows!' shouted Harborne. 'His body has been dragged through the window!'
'What's this about a green spider?' called several men.
'Don't ask me!' said my friend. 'I am inclined to agree with Jamieson that this is not the doing of a man. We must spread out and examine Spindle Lane and the surrounding country until we find the Professor's body.'
During the remainder of that never-to-be-forgotten night a party which grew in number as the hours wore on to dawn scoured the entire countryside for miles round. Towards five o'clock the rain suddenly broke over the marshes, and drenched us all to the skin, so that it was a sorry gathering that returned at daybreak to Barminster. The local police had taken charge of the laboratory, and urgent messages had been sent off to Scotland Yard; but when the London experts arrived on the scene we had nothing more to tell them than has already been recounted. Harborne, Doctor Davidson, and myself had devoted the whole of our attention to Spindle Lane and the immediate vicinity of the mysterious crime; but our exertions were not rewarded by the smallest discovery.
Such, then, were the extraordinary but inadequate data which were placed in the hands of the London investigators, and upon which they very naturally based a wholly erroneous theory.
This was the condition of affairs upon the night of the 16th, when Harborne suddenly marched into my rooms, and unceremoniously deposited a dripping leather case, bearing the initials J. B. S., in my fender.
'Any news?' I cried, springing up.
'Not like to be!' he answered. 'You might almost think these detectives have assumed all along that they are dealing with a case of the supernatural, and have, in consequence, overlooked certain clues which, had the circumstances been less bizarre, they would have instantly followed up.'
'You have some theory, then? What is in this bag?'
There was that in Harborne's manner which I could not altogether fathom as he evasively replied:
'Leaving the bag for a moment, let me just place the facts before you as they really are, and not as they appear to be. I must confess that, last night, I was more than half inclined to agree with the detectives; and it is eminently probable that but for one thing I should now be in complete agreement with the other investigators--who believe that some huge and unknown insect entered the laboratory and bore away the Professor! When I left you and Doctor Davidson yesterday morning I immediately went in search of Jamieson, and found him--three-parts intoxicated. As you have probably heard, he has since become wholly so, and the detectives have utterly failed to extract a sane word from him. In this respect, therefore, I was first in the field; and from him I obtained the one additional clue needed. About one AM--an hour after Brayme-Skepley had entered the laboratory--Jamieson came to the door of his lodge, and saw a light in the end house of Spindle Lane.'
'But surely the police have questioned all the tenants in Spindle Lane?'
'The end house is empty.'
'Have they examined it?'
'Certainly. But they merely did so as a matter of form: they had no particular reason for doing so. As a result they found nothing. What there was to find I had found before their arrival on the scene.'
'I am afraid I don't altogether follow.'
'Wait a minute. When I extracted from the porter the fact that he had seen a light in this house the entire affair immediately assumed a different aspect. The key to the mystery was in my hands. I went round into Spindle Lane, and surveyed the end house from the front. It was evidently empty, for the ground-floor windows were almost without glass.
'As I did not want to take anyone into my confidence at this stage of the proceedings it was impracticable to
