“There's not much doubt that he was tied up,” the inspector began. “The marks all point that way. But there was one thing that Mr. Wendover didn't account for in them. The marks on the legs were on the front only—there wasn't a mark on the back of the legs.” He halted for a moment and glanced at Wendover with subdued triumph. “So you infer?” Sir Clinton inquired. “I think he was tied up to something so that his legs were resting against it at the back and the bands were round the legs and the thing too. If it was that way, then the back of the legs wouldn't have any marks of the band on them.” “Then what was he tied up to?” asked Wendover. “One of the chairs inside the cottage,” the inspector went on. “If he'd been sitting in the chair, with each leg tied to a leg of the chair, you'd get just what we saw on the skin.” Sir Clinton acquiesced with a nod. “Anything more?” he asked. “I'm not quite through,” Armadale continued. “Assume he was tied up as I've explained. If it had been a one-man job, there would have been some signs of a struggle—marks on his wrists or something of that sort. Peter Hay seems to have been a fairly muscular person, quite strong enough to put up some sort of show if he got a chance; certainly he'd have given one man enough trouble to leave some marks on his own skin.” “More than one man, then?” Sir Clinton suggested. “Two, at least. Suppose one of them held him in talk while the other took him by surprise, and you get over the difficulty of there being no struggle. One man would pounce on him and then the other would join in; and they'd have him tied up before he could put up any fight that would leave marks on him.” “That sounds all right,” Wendover admitted. Sir Clinton put an innocent question. “If it had been a one-man affair and a big struggle, then surely Peter Hay would have had his attack while the fight was going on, and if he'd died during the struggle there would have been no need to tie him up? Isn't that so, squire?” Wendover considered the point and grudgingly agreed that it sounded probable. “Go on, inspector,” Sir Clinton ordered, without taking up the side-issue any further. “I can't quite see what they did when they'd got him tied up,” the inspector acknowledged. “They don't seem to have done much in the way of rummaging in the cottage, as far as I can see. Whatever it was that they were after, it wasn't the cash in the drawer; and it wasn't the two or three bits of silver, for they left them intact, although they could easily have got them if they'd wanted them. That part of the thing beats me just now.” Wendover showed a faint satisfaction at finding the inspector driven to admit a hiatus in his story.