Markham, I've been evolving a rather fantastic theory about 'em; and I want to test it."
Markham looked at him a moment with questioning curiosity. Then he glanced at his watch.
"I'll wait with you," he said.
Ten minutes later Doctor Doremus came down, and paused long enough on his way out to tell us that Rex had been shot with a .32 revolver held at a distance of about a foot from the forehead, the bullet having entered directly from the front and embedded itself, in all probability, in the midbrain.
A quarter of an hour after Doremus had gone Heath re-entered the drawing-room. He expressed uneasy surprise at seeing us still there.
"Mr. Vance wanted to hear Jerym's report," Markham explained.
"The Captain'll be through any minute now." The Sergeant sank into a chair. "He's checking Snitkin's measurements. He couldn't make much of the tracks on the carpet, though."
"And finger-prints?" asked Markham.
"Nothing yet."
"And there won't be," added Vance. "There wouldn't be footprints if they weren't deliberately intended for us."
Heath shot him a sharp look, but before he could speak Captain Jerym and Snitkin came down-stairs.
"What's the verdict, Cap?" asked the Sergeant.
"Those footprints on the balcony steps," said Jerym, "were made with galoshes of the same size and markings as the pattern turned over to me by Snitkin a fortnight or so ago. As for the prints in the room, I'm not so sure. They appear to be the
