SIR CRICHTON DAVEY'S study was a small one, and a glance sufficed to show that, as
the secretary had said, it offered no hiding-place. It was heavily carpeted, and over-full of
Burmese and Chinese ornaments and curios, and upon the mantelpiece stood several
framed photographs which showed this to be the sanctum of a wealthy bachelor who was
no misogynist. A map of the Indian Empire occupied the larger part of one wall. The
grate was empty, for the weather was extremely warm, and a green-shaded lamp on the
littered writing-table afforded the only light. The air was stale, for both windows were
closed and fastened.
Smith immediately pounced upon a large, square envelope that lay beside the blotting-
pad. Sir Crichton had not even troubled to open it, but my friend did so. It contained a
blank sheet of paper!
"Smell!" he directed, handing the letter to me. I raised it to my nostrils. It was scented
with some pungent perfume.
"It is a rather rare essential oil," was the reply, "which I have met with before, though
never in Europe. I begin to understand, Petrie."
He tilted the lamp-shade and made a close examination of the scraps of paper, matches,
and other debris that lay in the grate and on the hearth. I took up a copper vase from the
mantelpiece, and was examining it curiously, when he turned, a strange expression upon
his face.
"Put that back, old man," he said quietly.
Much surprised, I did as he directed.
"Don't touch anything in the room. It may he dangerous."
Something in the tone of his voice chilled me, and I hastily replaced the vase, and stood
by the door of the study, watching him search, methodically, every inch of the room--
behind the books, in all the ornaments, in table drawers, in cupboards, on shelves.
"That will do," he said at last. "There is nothing here and I have no time to search
farther."
We returned to the library.
"Inspector Weymouth," said my friend, "I have a particular reason for asking that Sir
Crichton's body be removed from this room at once and the library locked. Let no one be
