“Another thought. If Eames committed suicide why fasten himself up in a hotel wardrobe. Why not choose a bench in the park?” persisted the seeker after enlightenment. The banging of the door between the two rooms was the only reply. Chapter II Pointer liked to be up with the lark though he spent his time somewhat differently. It was barely six o'clock next morning when he took himself to the Marvel Hotel. “Look here, Gay”—the Detective Inspector was well-known to the booking-clerk, who had a brother at the Yard—“strictly between ourselves, there's some trouble in a balcony room next door. Something's missing. Who have you got in your rooms that open on to the same balcony?” The clerk ran a finger up his register. “Number two left early this morning, the rest are still abed I take it.” Pointer swung the book around. Number two was registered to a James Cox of Birmingham. Profession—Medical student. “At what hour did he leave?” “About four.” “Room empty?” asked the other quickly. “Good, I'll go up and have a look at it.” Reaching for the key, he was half-way up the stairs before the clerk had finished his nod. Pointer found the room still untouched by the chamber-maid, and he locked the door behind him with an air of relief. The bed had not been slept in. On the corner of the table lay a wax vesta, the counterpart of the ones already reposing in the Detective Inspector's black bag. The linoleum in front of the French window showed where muddy boots had walked up and down. Both the length of the stride and the size of the marks spoke for a tall man. On the balcony outside, the rain had washed away all chance of tracks on the stone, but on the waist-high grating, which was all that separated the rooms of the Marvel from those of the Enterprise, were a few small mud-clots close in by the wall, and under the shelter of the iron roof. Room number fourteen was nearest to the Marvel, and in front of its window even the rain had not been able to remove all traces of the muddy feet which had apparently stood first on one side and then on the other, as though a man had been trying to peer in through the blind. Looking in, Pointer saw Watts talking to Miller, who had been left on duty in the room all night. Yet even so, those tracks on the balcony could not have been made many hours before the rain stopped. Someone had walked from one window to the other after he and Watts had left the place. He tapped on the pane, and Watts joined him outside. He had already seen the marks.