he looked about him. Presently he pointed beneath a huge geographical globe beside the desk.
"There are your galoshes, Sergeant. I thought they'd be here."
Heath almost threw himself upon them, and carried them to the window.
"They're the ones, all right," he declared.
Markham gave Vance one of his annoyed, calculating stares.
"You've got some theory," he asserted, in an accusing tone.
"Nothing more than I've already told you. The finding of the galoshes was wholly incidental. I'm interested in other things—just what, I don't know."
He stood near the centre-table and let his eyes roam over the objects of the room. Presently his gaze came to rest on a low wicker reading-chair the right arm of which was shaped into a book-rest. It stood within a few feet of the wall opposite to the fireplace, facing a narrow section of book-shelves that was surmounted by a replica of the Capitoline Museum bust of Vespasian.
"Most untidy," he murmured. "I'm sure that chair wasn't left in that position twelve years ago."
He moved forward, and stood looking down at it musingly. Instinctively Markham and Heath followed him; and then they saw the thing that he had been contemplating. On the table-arm of the chair was a deep saucer in which stood the thick stub of a candle. The saucer was almost filled with smoky wax drippings.
"It took many candles to fill that dish," commented Vance; "and I doubt if the departed Tobias
