When they entered the farther wing he noticed that Katherine's door stood wide. "You see," he said. "When I called her," Graham explained, "she thought something had happened to her grandfather. She ran out." "And forgot all about the door," Robinson grinned. "That's lucky. Now, Rawlins." Bobby couldn't bring himself to cross the threshold, but from the corridor he could see the interior of the room and all that went on there during the next few moments. A candle burned on the bureau, exposing the feminine neatness and delicacy of the furnishings. The presence of the three men was a desecration; what they were about to do, an unforgivable act of vandalism. Rawlins went to a work table while Robinson rummaged in the closet. Graham, meantime, bent against the footboard of the bed, watching with anxious eyes. Bobby's anger was increased by this picture. He resisted an impulse to run to the stairs and call Katherine up. That would simply increase Robinson's suspicions. There was nothing she could do, nothing he could do. Rawlins had clearly been unsuccessful at the work table. He glided to the bureau. One after the other he opened the drawers, fumbling within, lifting the contents out, replacing them with a rough haste while Bobby's futile rage increased. Suddenly he saw Graham's attitude alter. Rawlins's back stiffened. He pulled the bottom drawer altogether from the bureau and thrust it to one side. He gazed in the opening. "Come here, Mr. Robinson," he said softly. Robinson left the closet and stooped beside the detective. He exclaimed. Graham went closer looking over their backs. "You'd better see, Bobby," he said without turning. "Yes," Robinson said. "Let me show you how wrong you were, Mr. Blackburn. Let me ask if you knew you were wrong." Bobby entered with a quicker pulse. He, too, stooped and looked in the opening. Abruptly everything altered for him. He wondered that his physical surroundings should remain the same, that the eager faces beside him should retain their familiar lines. Against the back-board of the bureau, where it would fit neatly when the drawer was in place, lay a plaster cast of a footmark. Near by was a rumpled handkerchief that Bobby recognized as his own, and the envelope, containing Howells's report which they had told Jenkins to hide. "Well?" Robinson grinned. "I swear I didn't know they were there," Bobby answered. "You'll never make me believe that Katherine knows it." "I've guessed," Rawlins said, "that the stuff was hidden here ever since this afternoon when I saw a small bundle sneaked in." "Who brought it?" Bobby took him up. Robinson's grin expanded. "Leave us one or two surprises to spring in court." "Then," Bobby said, "my cousin wasn't in the room when this evidence was brought here." "I'll admit that," Rawlins answered, "but she wasn't far away, and she got here before I could investigate, and she's kept the door locked ever since until just now."