"This ought to do." Dubois was pleased with his find. "It's the right hand—a clear print—and the guy who made it was standing right behind the dame. . . . And it's the newest print in the place."
"What about this box?" Heath pointed to the black document-box on the table near the overturned lamp.
"Not a mark—wiped clean."
Dubois began putting away his paraphernalia.
"I say, Captain Dubois," interposed Vance, "did you take a good look at the inside door-knob of that clothes-press?"
The man swung about abruptly, and gave Vance a glowering look.
"People ain't in the habit of handling the inside knobs of closet doors. They open and shut closets from the outside."
Vance raised his eyebrows in simulated astonishment.
"Do they, now, really?—Fancy that! . . . Still, don't y' know, if one were inside the closet, one couldn't reach the outside knob."
"The people I know don't shut themselves in clothes-closets." Dubois's tone was ponderously sarcastic.
"You positively amaze me!" declared Vance. "All the people I know are addicted to the habit—a sort of daily pastime, don't y' know."
Markham, always diplomatic, intervened.
"What idea have you about that closet, Vance?"
"Alas! I wish I had one," was the dolorous answer. "It's because I can't, for the life of me, make sense of its neat and orderly appearance that I'm so
