Also somebody had left his mark on Birdie—a queer hand—a hand that wasn't quite all there—long fingers with no top joint. Did you notice Mr. Nastitch's left hand?"
The detectives looked at each other.
"That was in a burglary in New York," said the Superintendent. "He escaped out of a window, and a constable smashed his hand on the sill."
"So I photographed the wound and the bruise. Well, when I saw Weston, I saw she had really been drugged. Contracted pupils, bluish pallor. Morphia. Same symptoms in Ford. Why should they drug themselves and not drug Birdie? That ruled them out. Also, I surprised Flora in Birdie's bedroom doing something by the bed. When I browsed round afterwards I found a wet bloodstain under a clean rug. When Flora knew the Weston girl was arrested and the jewels had been missed, she chucked the ring into Weston's room. While you were searching the house, I drifted into Miss Flora's room. Several medicine bottles about. One of 'em empty. That had carried a strong solution of morphia. So I set my chauffeur to watch for Flora. And that night she went off to the lodgings of Nastitch. She's been buzzing round ever since. Well?"
"Well, sir, it's a good thing you didn't take to crime," said Superintendent Bell.
"Oh, that's much harder," said Reggie.
