detail which we see before us.” He walked to the French window and threw it open. “There are no signs here, but the ground is iron hard, and one would not expect them. I see that these candles in the mantelpiece have been lighted.”
“Yes, it was by their light, and that of the lady’s bedroom candle, that the burglars saw their way about.”
“And what did they take?”
“Well, they did not take much—only half a dozen articles of plate off the sideboard. Lady Brackenstall thinks that they were themselves so disturbed by the death of Sir Eustace that they did not ransack the house, as they would otherwise have done.”
“No doubt that is true, and yet they drank some wine, I understand.”
“To steady their nerves.”
“Exactly. These three glasses upon the sideboard have been untouched, I suppose?”
“Yes, and the bottle stands as they left it.”
“Let us look at it. Halloa, halloa! What is this?”
The three glasses were grouped together, all of them tinged with wine, and one of them containing some dregs of beeswing. The bottle stood near them, two-thirds full, and beside it lay a long, deeply stained cork. Its appearance and the dust upon the bottle showed that was no common vintage which the murderers had enjoyed.
A change had come over Holmes’ manner. He had lost his listless expression, and again I saw an alert light of interest in his keen,deep-set eyes. He raised the cork and examined it minutely.
“How did they draw it?” he asked.
Hopkins pointed to a half-opened drawer. In it lay some table linen and a large cork-screw.
