“Well, I began by searching the wood thoroughly, but I got nothing out of that excepting Mr. D’Arblay’s hat, which I found in the undergrowth not far from the main path.
“Then I thought of dragging the pond; but I decided that, as it was only a small pond and shallow, it would be best to empty it and expose the bottom completely. So I dammed up the little stream that feeds it, and deepened the outflow, and very soon I had it quite empty excepting a few small puddles. And I think it was well worth the trouble. These things don’t tell us much, but they may be useful one day for identification. And they do tell us something. They suggest that this man was a collector of coins; and they make it fairly clear that there was a struggle in the pond before Mr. D’Arblay fell down.”
“That is, assuming that the things belonged to the murderer,” I interposed. “There is no evidence that they did.”
“No, there isn’t,” he admitted; “but if you consider the three things together they suggest a very strong probability. Here is a waistcoat button violently pulled off, and here are two things such as would be carried in a waistcoat pocket and might fall out if the waistcoat were dragged at violently when the wearer was stooping over a fallen man and struggling to avoid being pulled down with him. And then there is this coin. Its face value is a guinea, but it must be worth a good deal more than that. Do you suppose anybody would leave a thing of that kind in a shallow pond, from which it could be easily recovered with a common landing-net? Why, it would have paid to have had the pond dragged or even emptied. But, as I say, that wouldn’t have been necessary.”
“I am inclined to think you are right, Inspector,” said I, rather impressed by the way in which he had reasoned the matter out; “but even so, it doesn’t seem to me that we are much more forward. The things don’t point to any particular person.”
“Not at present,” he rejoined. “But a fact is a fact, and you can never tell in advance what you may get out of it. If we should get a hint of any other kind pointing to some particular person, these things might furnish invaluable evidence connecting that person with the crime. They may even give a clue now to the people at the C.I.D., though that isn’t very likely.”
“Then you are going to hand them over to the Scotland Yard people?”
“Certainly. The C.I.D. are the lions, you know. I’m only a jackal.”
I was rather sorry to hear this, for the idea had floated into my mind that I should have liked Thorndyke to see these waifs, which, could they have spoken, would have had so much to tell. To me they conveyed nothing that threw any light on the ghastly events of that night of horror. But to my teacher, with his vast experience and his wonderful power of analyzing evidence they might convey some quite important significance.
I reflected rapidly on the matter. It would not be wise to say anything to the inspector about Thorndyke, and it was quite certain that a loan of the articles would not be entertained. Probably a description of them would be enough for the purpose; but still I had a feeling that an inspection of them would be better. Suddenly I had a bright idea, and proceeded cautiously to broach it.
“I should rather like to have a record of these things,” said I; “particularly of the coin. Would you object to my taking an impression of it in sealing-wax?”
Inspector Follett looked doubtful. “It would be a bit irregular,” he said. “It is a bit irregular for me to have shown it to you, but you are interested in the case, and you are a responsible person. What did you want the impression for?”
“Well,” I said, “we don’t know much about that coin. I thought I might be able to pick up some further information. Of course, I understand that what you have told me is strictly confidential. I shouldn’t go showing the thing about, or talking. But I should like to have the impression to refer to if necessary.”
“Very well,” said he. “On that understanding, I have no objection. But see that you don’t leave any wax on the coin, or the C.I.D. people will be asking questions.”
With this permission, I set about the business gleefully, determined to get as good an impression as possible. From the surgery I fetched an ointment slab, a spirit lamp, a stick of sealing-wax, a teaspoon, some powder-papers, a bowl of water, and a jar of vaseline. Laying a paper on the slab, I put the coin on it and traced its outline with a pencil. Then I broke off a piece of sealing-wax, melted it in the teaspoon, and poured it out carefully into the marked circle so that it formed a round, convex button of the right size. While the wax was cooling to the proper consistency, I smeared the coin with vaseline, and wiped the excess off with my handkerchief. Then I carefully laid it on the stiffening wax and made steady pressure. After a few moments I cautiously lifted the paper and dropped it into the water, leaving it to cool completely. When, finally, I turned it over under water, the coin dropped away by its own weight.
“It is a beautiful impression,” the inspector remarked, as he examined it with the aid of my pocket lens, while I prepared to operate on
