“Not necessarily. Don’t you remember the police saying at the inquest that some of the marks were blurred, as if the club had been handled afterwards? That inspector fellow said he was sure the murderer had worn gloves. That’s it. Woodman must have worn gloves, and they blurred the marks. That shows that Woodman killed George as well as Prinsep.” “Of course it all helps to make it likely; and I never thought John had done it. But it’s not proof, you know.” “It may not be proof, but, by George, with the rest of the facts we have I think it’s good enough.” “No, Bob, I don’t think it is good enough—for proof, I mean—unless we can prove that Carter was in Liskeard House that evening. If we could prove that, I agree that we could bring the whole thing home to him.” “But we know he went out of the Cunningham, and lied about where he had been.” “We know he lied, but we can’t even prove that he went out of the hotel. We only showed that he could have got out, and in again, without being seen. It really isn’t good enough—yet.” “But how are we to make it any better?” “If Carter got back into Liskeard House I’m going to find out how he did it. He couldn’t have come in by the front door—some one would have been certain to see him. And I’m fairly certain he couldn’t have got in through the theatre without being seen.” “Then how on earth did he get in?” “That’s what I mean to find out. If he didn’t come in the other ways, he must have come in through the coachyard.” “But surely the evidence at the inquest showed that it was all locked up, and no one could possibly have got in that way.” “My dear Bob, the evidence only showed that it was locked at eleven o’clock. The police theory was that the murders were somewhere about midnight. But we believe Carter got out of the Cunningham some time before eleven. He must have come through before it was locked. And we know now, thanks to that coat-button, how he got out.” “You may be right. But the chauffeur and his wife both said they didn’t see any one come in before they locked up; so that, even if Woodman did come that way, I don’t see how we can prove it.” “You are a Jeremiah. Of course I don’t see either. But I haven’t really tried yet, and I’m going to. And now, Bob, let’s pay our bill, and get to work on it. It must be so, and I’m not going to believe it can’t be proved.” Chapter XXXII Sir John Bunnery