"May I open one or two drawers?" asked Quarles. "You may search wherever you like," said Oglethorpe. For a few minutes Quarles wandered round the room, opening a drawer here, a cabinet there, and apparently looking at the contents in a casual manner. "I should like to see the room where Mr. Frisby died, if I may," he said presently. We went upstairs, and with a slow glance round it, Quarles seemed to take in every item it contained and every corner that was in it. Here, too, he opened several drawers. "He died in the evening, I understand," said the professor. "Just before midnight," Oglethorpe returned. "He was unconscious, wasn't he?" "He could not speak, but I do not think he was altogether unconscious. I believe he knew me." "It has been suggested that he appeared to have something on his mind," said Quarles. "I think it was the light that troubled him, but whether he wanted more or less in the room we could not determine. We tried both without being able to satisfy him." "Reviewing the circumstances of those last few hours, was there anything which might point to the cause of this trouble?" "I do not think so," Oglethorpe answered. "He moved his hands continuously, but not in the least as if he were anxious to write. Such an idea did not occur to any of us. It was only afterward that we wondered whether he was troubled about his will." "Who first started that idea?" "I think it was Morton, but I am not sure." "How did Mr. Frisby move his hands?" "Like this, very slowly and feebly." Oglethorpe held his hands before him an inch or two apart, the knuckles uppermost. The left hand he tilted slowly forward and downward; the right upward and backward. "You are quite sure that those were the exact movements?" said Quarles after watching him closely. "Quite sure." "They were the same the whole time? He did not vary them?" "Not once." Quarles turned and walked out of the room, and we followed him. He paused to examine a bronze figure standing on a pedestal on the landing. "Do you intend to begin your search at once?" Oglethorpe asked. The professor did not answer. "You can do so when you like," Oglethorpe went on. "No," said Quarles with a start. He was not really examining the bronze, he was lost in thought. "No, not at once. I must think it out first. To-morrow, perhaps. I cannot say for certain." It was by no means a hopeful answer, and I wondered if Quarles had already made some discovery which entirely destroyed his theory. His questions and his insistency on certain points told me that he had some theory. We had kept our carriage waiting. "I'm going to walk, Wigan," said the professor. "I must be alone. That road looks pretty flat and uninteresting; I shall go that way. It's impossible to think in that room at the Heron. I may be some hours. By the way, you might try and find out if Frisby Morton is in Boston. I might want to see him."