"I am afraid you are wrong, Mr. Brasher. There is a great deal to it. One thing, seems certain. If Mr. Miller killed himself, it is reasonably certain that it was an accident; that he did not intend to do so. And, off hand, although I am not prone to giving snap judgment, I should say that the chances are enormously against his either having shot himself by accident or design." "But, Professor, there was Mr. Miller on the couch, his gun near his hand, where he dropped it. The door and window were locked, not only locked, but bolted, from inside; Mr. Miller was a very suspicious man; that's why he built this tower. "In addition to this, he had a burglar alarm on the door, he didn't need one on the window. If you look out the window in the next room you'll see that it would take a bird, or anyhow, something that can fly, to get at it. A monkey couldn't get at the window, to say nothing of getting in. "When we came this morning, the door was bolted and the alarm was on. The window was as you see it, bolted from inside. As for that ventilating thing, a baby couldn't get in. There were powder marks around the bullet hole. So, how--" Professor Brierly was not listening. He walked into the bedroom, followed by the others. He examined the walls and floors. He went to the window, submitting each pane to a careful scrutiny. He looked carefully at the sill. Then he went to the door, with its jagged scars showing from the recent assault upon it by the police. He returned once more to the window. He opened it--it swung outward on a hinge--and looked out a long time. When he withdrew his head from his long scrutiny, even Matthews, who knew him best, could not tell from his demeanor if he had what he was seeking. For that matter, Matthews was completely in the dark as to what his mentor and foster father was looking for. Professor Brierly turned to Brasher, who had followed him into the room and was following his movements with cynical amusement. "Who takes care of these rooms, Mr. Brasher; I mean who cleans them?" "I don't know, but there's a sort of housekeeper. I'll get her up here." "Do so, please." A thin, middle-aged woman, dressed in somber black, appeared. She looked from one to the other of the group of men. There was no emotion visible on her thin features, except for a tinge of defiance. She was introduced as Mrs. Horsnall. "Mrs. Horsnall," asked Professor Brierly, "who cleans these rooms?" "The maid, Ella." "When did she clean these rooms last?" "Yesterday afternoon." "Are you sure she cleaned them properly?" "She did that, or she would have heard from me. I looked at the rooms myself after she was through. I always look after the work of the help around here." No one present doubted that she did a thorough job of looking after things. "Have any repairs been done in these rooms recently, Mrs. Horsnall?" "Repairs, how do you mean?" "Well, such things as locks, hinges, lights, windows, and so forth."