ou, my dear fellow, for looking
after Mabel this morning. I had no idea she was going to feel ill after
leaving the box; she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she is a woman
of such extraordinary self-command, I thought I could leave her to her
own devices and hear out the evidence, which I thought it important I
should do. It was a very fortunate thing she found a friend to assist
her, and she is most grateful. She is quite herself again now.'

Trent, with his hands in his pockets and a slight frown on his brow,
made no reply to this. 'I tell you what,' he said after a short pause,
'I was just getting to the really interesting part of the job when you
came in. Come; would you like to see a little bit of high-class police
work? It's the very same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing
at this moment. Perhaps he is; but I hope to glory he isn't.' He sprang
off the table and disappeared into his bedroom. Presently he came out
with a large drawing-board on which a number of heterogeneous objects
was ranged.

'First I must introduce you to these little things,' he said, setting
them out on the table. 'Here is a big ivory paper-knife; here are two
leaves cut out of a diary--my own diary; here is a bottle containing
dentifrice; here is a little case of polished walnut. Some of these
things have to be put back where they belong in somebody's bedroom at
White Gables before night. That's the sort of man I am--nothing stops
me. I borrowed them this very morning when every one was down at
the inquest, and I dare say some people would think it rather an odd
proceeding if they knew. Now there remains one object on the board. Can
you tell me, without touching it, what it is?'

'Certainly I can,' said Mr Cupples, peering at it with great interest.
'It is an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I see
nothing odd about it,' he added after some moments of close scrutiny.

'I can't see much myself,' replied Trent, 'and that is exactly where the
fun comes in. Now take this little fat bottle, Cupples, and pull out the
cork. Do you recognize that powder inside it? You have swallowed pounds
of it in your time, I expect. They give it to babies. Grey powder is its
ordinary name--mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. Now, while I hold
the basin sideways over this sheet of paper, I want you to pour a little
powder out of the bottle over this part of the bowl--just here....
Perfect! Sir Edward Henry himself could not have h