pots on the collar of the
white robe.

Hinman looked up with a little exclamation.

"I forgot," he said. "Did you find the handkerchief? No, I see you
didn't," and he pointed to where it lay on the floor. "I noticed it
when I first looked at the body."

Without a word, Goldberger bent and picked up the blood-stained
handkerchief. Then he and Simmonds examined it minutely. Finally the
coroner looked at Godfrey, and his eyes were very bright.

"There can be only one inference," he said. "The dead man is not
bleeding--the cord did not cut the flesh. The blood, then, must have
come from the murderer. He must have been injured in some
way--bleeding profusely. Look at this handkerchief--it is fairly
soaked."

I am sure that, at that instant, the same thought was in Godfrey's
mind which flashed through mine, for our eyes met, and there was a
shadow in his which I knew my own reflected. Then I glanced at Hinman.
He was looking at the handkerchief thoughtfully, his lips tightly
closed. I could guess what he was thinking, but he said nothing.

Goldberger laid the handkerchief on the table, at last, and turned
back to the body. He bent close above it, examining the blood spots,
and when he stood erect again there was in his face a strange
excitement.

"Lend me your glass, Simmonds," he said, and when Simmonds handed him
a small pocket magnifying-glass, he unfolded it and bent above the
stains again, scrutinising each in turn. At last he closed the glass
with an emphatic little snap. "This case isn't going to be so
difficult, after all," he said. "Those spots are finger-prints."

With an exclamation of astonishment, Simmonds took the glass and
examined the stains; then he handed it to Godfrey, who finally passed
it on to me. Looking through it, I saw that Goldberger was right. The
stains had been made by human fingers. Most of them were mere
smudges, but here and there was one on which faint lines could be
dimly traced.

"They seem to be pretty vague," I remarked, passing the glass on to
Hinman.

"They're plenty clear enough for our purpose," said Goldberger;
"besides they will come out much clearer in photographs. It's lucky
this stuff is so smooth and closely-woven," he added, fingering a
corner of the robe, "or we wouldn't have got even those. It's as hard
and fine as silk."

"How do you suppose those marks came there, Mr. Goldberger?" Godfrey
asked, and there was in his tone a polite scepticism which evidently