“Surely there is another alternative, Mr. Holmes. I don't know whether you observed my bedroom window?”
“Lattice-paned, lead framework, three separate windows, one swinging on hinge, and large enough to admit a man.”
“Exactly. And it looks out on an angle of the courtyard so as to be partly invisible. The man might have effected his entrance there, left traces as he passed through the bedroom, and finally, finding the door open, have escaped that way.”
Holmes shook his head impatiently.
“Let us be practical,” said he. “I understand you to say that there are three students who use this stair, and are in the habit of passing your door?”
“Yes, there are.”
“And they are all in for this examination?”
“Yes.”
“Have you any reason to suspect any one of them more than the others?”
Soames hesitated.
“It is a very delicate question,” said he. “One hardly likes to throw suspicion where there are no proofs.”
“Let us hear the suspicions. I will look after the proofs.”
“I will tell you, then, in a few words the character of the three men who inhabit these rooms. The lower of the three is Gilchrist, a fine scholar and athlete, plays in the Rugby team and the cricket team for the college, and got his Blue for the hurdles and the long jump. He is a fine, manly fellow. His father was the notorious Sir Jabez Gilchrist, who ruined himself on the turf. My scholar has been left very poor, but he is hard-working and industrious. He will do well.
“The second floor is inhabited by Daulat Ras, the Indian. He is a quiet, inscrutable fellow, as most of those Indians are.
