“Well, he wrote so furiously that he broke his pencil, and had, asyou observe, to sharpen it again. This is of interest, Watson. Thepencil was not an ordinary one. It was above the usual size, witha soft lead, the outer colour was dark blue, the maker’s name wasprinted in silver lettering, and the piece remaining is only about aninch and a half long. Look for such a pencil, Mr. Soames, and youhave got your man. When I add that he possesses a large and veryblunt knife, you have an additional aid.”
Mr. Soames was somewhat overwhelmed by this flood ofinformation. “I can follow the other points,” said he, “but really, inthis matter of the length——”
Holmes held out a small chip with the letters NN and a space ofclear wood after them.
“You see?”
“No, I fear that even now——”
“Watson, I have always done you an injustice. There are others.
What could this NN be? It is at the end of a word. You are awarethat Johann Faber is the most common maker’s name. Is it notclear that there is just as much of the pencil left as usually followsthe Johann?” He held the small table sideways to the electric light.
“I was hoping that if the paper on which he wrote was thin, sometrace of it might come through upon this polished surface. No,I see nothing. I don’t think there is anything more to be learnedhere. Now for the central table. This small pellet is, I presume,the black, doughy mass you spoke of. Roughly pyramidal in shapeand hollowed out, I perceive. As you say, there appear to be grainsof sawdust in it. Dear me, this is very interesting. And the cut—apositive tear, I see. It began with a thin scratch and ended in ajagged hole. I am much indebted to you for directing my attentionto this case, Mr. Soames. Where does that door lead to?”
“To my bedroom.”
“Have you been in it since your adventure?”
“No, I came straight away for you.”
“I should like to have a glance round. What a charming, oldfashionedroom! Perhaps you will kindly wait a minute, until Ihave examined the floor. No, I see nothing. What about thiscurtain? You hang your clothes behind it. If anyone were forced toconceal himself in this room he must do it there, since the bed istoo low and the wardrobe too shallow. No one there, I suppose?”
As Holmes drew the curtain I was aware, from some littlerigidity and alertness of his attitude, that he was prepared foran emergency. As a matter of fact, the drawn curtain disclosednothing but three or four suits of clothes hanging from a line ofpegs. Holmes turned away, and stooped suddenly to the floor.
“Halloa! What’s this?” said he.
It was a small pyramid of black, putty-like stuff, exactly like theone upon the table of the study. Holmes held it out on his openpalm in the glare of the electric light.
“Your visitor seems to have left traces in your bedroom as wellas in your sitting-room, Mr. Soames.”
“What could he have wanted there?”
“I think it is clear enough. You came back by an unexpected way,and so he had no warning until you were at the very door. Whatcould he do? He caught up everything which would betray him,and he rushed into your bedroom to conceal himself.”
“Good gracious, Mr. Holmes, do you mean to tell me that, allthe time I was talking to Bannister in this room, we had the manprisoner if we had only known it?”
“So I read it.”
“Surely there is another alternative, Mr. Holmes. I don’t knowwhether you observed my bedroom window?”
“Lattice-paned, lead framework, three separate windows, oneswinging on hinge, and large enough to admit a man.”
“Exactly. And it looks out on an angle of the courtyard so asto be partly invisible. The man might have effected his entrancethere, left traces as he passed through the bedroom, and finally,finding the door open, have escaped that way.”
Holmes shook his head impatiently.
“Let us be practical,” said he. “I understand you to say thatthere are three students who use this stair, and are in the habit ofpassing your door?”
“Yes, there are.”
“And they are all in for this examination?”
“Yes.”
“Have you any reason to suspect any one of them more than theothers?”
Soames hesitated.
“It is a very delicate question,” said he. “One hardly likes tothrow suspicion where there are no proofs.”
“Let us hear the suspicions. I will look after the proofs.”
“I will tell you, then, in a few words the character of the threemen who inhabit these rooms. The lower of the three is Gilchrist,a fine scholar and athlete, plays in the Rugby team and the cricketteam for the college, and got his Blue for the hurdles and the longjump. He is a fine, manly fellow. His father was the notorious SirJabez Gilchrist, who ruined himself on the turf. My scholar hasbeen left very poor, but he is hard-working and industrious. Hewill do well.
“The second floor is inhabited by Daulat Ras, the Indian. He isa quiet, inscrutable fellow; as most of those Indians are. He is wellup in his work, though his Greek is his weak subject. He is steadyand methodical.
“The top floor belongs to Miles McLaren. He is a brilliantfellow when he chooses to work—one of the brightest intellectsof the university; but he is wayward, dissipated, and unprincipled.
He was nearly expelled over a card scandal in his first year. He hasbeen idling all this term, and he must look forward with dread tothe examination.”
“Then it is he whom you suspect?”
“I dare not go so far as that. But, of the three, he is perhaps theleast unlikely.”
“Exactly. Now, Mr. Soames, let us have a look at your servant,Bannister.”
He was a little, white-faced, clean-shaven, grizzly-haired fellowof fifty. He was still suffering from this sudden disturbance of thequiet routine of his life. His plump face was twitching with hisnervousness, and his fingers could not keep still.
“We are investigating this unhappy business, Bannister,” said hismaster.
“Yes, sir.”
“I understand,” said Holmes, “that you left your key in thedoor?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Was it not very extraordinary that you should do this on thevery day when there were these papers inside?”