"And just how did he leave the room? You know, Mrs. Stannard was in the Billiard Room and Miss Vernon on the Terrace, while Blake was at the main hall door." "He made his escape by the large West window," replied Barry. "If you will examine it on the outside, you will see the marks of the jimmy, or whatever you call the tool that burglars open windows with." An officer was sent at once to investigate this, and returned with the information that there certainly were marks and scratches outside the window in question. It was a long, French window, opening like a double door, and near the lock were the tell-tale marks. Bobsy Roberts cast one comprehensive glance at the West window, and then closed and reopened one of his rather good-looking grey eyes. He glanced at Barry, and observed, silently, "Some scheme!" after which, he calmly awaited developments. "But how can we think that a man entered at that window," said Lamson, "when we notice how it is filled with furniture and apparatus?" "It might have been managed," asserted Barry. And then Bobsy Roberts spoke out loud. "It couldn't be," he said, positively. "No one could, by any chance or skill, come in or go out by that window without moving those plaster casts that are on the floor. No one could do it without overturning that small easel, whose leg is directly in the path of the window frame as it swings back. If you will try it, Inspector, you will see what I mean." It was true. Even though the window might be opened, it would crash into and knock over the small, light-weight easel, which held an unfinished picture on a mounted canvas. And it would also knock down some casts which leaned against it. Barry looked crestfallen, the more so, that now the Coroner regarded him with a sort of suspicion. "Mr. Stannard," he said, "I don't want to do you an injustice, but your theory is so suspiciously implausible, that I can't help thinking you might have made those scratches on the window yourself, for the purpose of diverting suspicion." "I did," Barry blurted out, almost like a school-boy. "And I am not ashamed of it. My father's death is a mystery. So much of a one that I feel sure it will never be solved. For that reason, I did and do want to turn your mind away from the absurd and utterly unfounded presumption you make that the crime could have been committed by either of the two ladies who, hearing my father's dying struggles, rushed to his assistance." "That may be the case," said Lamson, "with one of the ladies you refer to. But the other is, to all appearances the one responsible for the crime. It is my duty to prove or disprove this, even though the position and high character of the ladies make it seem impossible."