ficer in charge here day and night. This morning, as the man was buried and the investigation over so far as this room is concerned—we thought we could tidy up a bit. This carpet. You see, it is not fastened down, only just laid there. We had occasion to raise it. We found—”
“Yes? You found—”
Holmes' face grew tense with anxiety.
“Well, I'm sure you would never guess in a hundred years what we did find. You see that stain on the carpet? Well, a great deal must have soaked through, must it not?”
“Undoubtedly it must.”
“Well, you will be surprised to hear that there is no stain on the white woodwork to correspond.”
“No stain! But there must—”
“Yes, so you would say. But the fact remains that there isn't.”
He took the corner of the carpet in his hand and, turning it over, he showed that it was indeed as he said.
“But the underside is as stained as the upper. It must have left a mark.”
Lestrade chuckled with delight at having puzzled the famous expert.
“Now, I'll show you the explanation. There is a second stain, but it does not correspond with the other. See for yourself.” As he spoke he turned over another portion of the carpet, and there, sure enough, was a great crimson spill upon the square white facing of the old-fashioned floor. “What do you make of that, Mr. Holmes?”
“Why, it is simple enough. The two stains did correspond, but the carpet has been turned round. As it was square and unfastened it was easily done.”
