Evelyn gripped the rail of the balusters with both hands with a sudden violence of which she was completely unconscious: and then, her heart beating wildly with an intuition of success, bent to examine what she had found. On the elbow, a little underneath and behind it so that, unless the statuette was moved—and she had no intention of touching it then—it could only be seen by twisting well over the balusters, was a little, dirty, dark red clot: the whole of the arm at the back from elbow to shoulder and again a little down the side was slightly stained as well. Evelyn knew that she had come upon not only the answer to the puzzle which had then been engaging her but the true weapon as well. The statuette stood almost directly above the spot where Sir Roger’s body had been found. She saw it all now. It had been so easy to fling it down upon the victim standing below. Sir Roger’s attention must have been attracted by a noise above just too late; he had started back, and the statuette had struck him on his uplifted forehead and dashed him to the ground. It was obvious too why the murderer had come upstairs immediately after committing the crime—it was to replace the statuette. What part John had played she could not tell; it was evident that he could have had no direct hand in it, he would never have come there to seize and hurl so bizarre a weapon. Black as the tragedy seemed, Evelyn was sensible of two consoling thoughts. John might know, but it might have happened after he had gone—probably it had; at any rate he had not struck the blow; and secondly, Celia, whatever she knew and feared, had not known of this, had not helped to cover up the tracks of her father’s murderer. She drew back a little from the bracket, clutching these two thoughts to her bitter, sickened heart, and then, stooping down, gazed fixedly at the floor for any further direct testimony as to the replacing of the statuette. Nothing was visible on the carpet, but, outlined on the white paint, between the carpet and the balusters was the imprint of a left foot, very faint, but clear enough of outline to intently searching eyes. It needed no great acuteness to deduce that in the act of putting the statuette back on the bracket the murderer had stepped off the carpet with one foot.