Vance, after lighting a cigarette, proceeded to inspect the two rooms, letting his eyes rest searchingly on the various disordered objects. Presently he went into the bathroom and remained several minutes. When he came out he carried a towel with several dark smudges on it.
"This is what Skeel used to erase his finger-prints," he said, tossing the towel on the bed.
"Marvellous!" Markham rallied him. "That, of course, convicts Spotswoode."
"Tut, tut! But it helps substantiate my theory of the crime." He walked to the dressing-table and sniffed at a tiny silver atomizer. "The lady used Coty's Chypre," he murmured. "Why will they all do it?"
"And just what does that help substantiate?"
"Markham dear, I'm absorbing atmosphere. I'm attuning my soul to the apartment's vibrations. Do let me attune in peace. I may have a visitation at any moment—a revelation from Sinai, as it were."
He continued his round of investigation, and at last passed out into the main hall, where he stood, one foot holding open the door, looking about him with curious intentness. When he returned to the living-room, he sat down on the edge of the rosewood table, and surrendered himself to gloomy contemplation. After several minutes he gave Markham a sardonic grin.
"I say! This is a problem. Dash it all, it's uncanny!"
"I had an idea," scoffed Markham, "that sooner or later you'd revise your deductions in regard to Spotswoode."
