him as, with his
pocket-knife, he scraped together some objects that he had found on the
pillow.

"What do you make of this?" he asked, as I stepped over to his side. He
pointed with the blade to a tiny heap of what looked like silver sand,
and, as I looked more closely, I saw that similar particles were
sprinkled on other parts of the pillow.

"Silver sand!" I exclaimed. "I don't understand at all how it can have
got there. Do you?"

Thorndyke shook his head. "We will consider the explanation later," was
his reply. He had produced from his pocket a small metal box which he
always carried, and which contained such requisites as cover-slips,
capillary tubes, moulding wax, and other "diagnostic materials." He now
took from it a seed-envelope, into which he neatly shovelled the little
pinch of sand with his knife. He had closed the envelope, and was
writing a pencilled description on the outside, when we were startled by
a cry from Hart.

"Good God, sir! Look at this! It was done by a woman!"

He had drawn back the bedclothes, and was staring aghast at the dead
girl's left hand. It held a thin tress of long, red hair.

Thorndyke hastily pocketed his specimen, and, stepping round the little
bedside table, bent over the hand with knitted brows. It was closed,
though not tightly clenched, and when an attempt was made gently to
separate the fingers, they were found to be as rigid as the fingers of a
wooden hand. Thorndyke stooped yet more closely, and, taking out his
lens, scrutinized the wisp of hair throughout its entire length.

"There is more here than meets the eye at the first glance," he
remarked. "What say you, Hart?" He held out his lens to his quondam
pupil, who was about to take it from him when the door opened, and three
men entered. One was a police-inspector, the second appeared to be a
plain-clothes officer, while the third was evidently the divisional
surgeon.

"Friends of yours, Hart?" inquired the latter, regarding us with some
disfavour.

Thorndyke gave a brief explanation of our presence to which the newcomer
rejoined:

"Well, sir, your _locus standi_ here is a matter for the inspector. My
assistant was not authorized to call in outsiders. You needn't wait,
Hart."

With this he proceeded to his inspection, while Thorndyke withdrew the
pocket-thermometer that he had slipped under the body, and took the
reading.

The inspector, however, was not disposed to exercise the prerogative at
which t