Lieutenant Norton nodded and opened the drawer of his desk again. He removed a large manila envelope. The humorous-looking false Vandyke, reminiscent of the slapstick methods of stage comedians, lay exposed on his desk. Dr. Lytton stepped forward. “May I look at this?” he asked. The lieutenant nodded. “Hm, I thought so,” the doctor murmured. Taking a note-book from his pocket, he wrote down a few words. Norton raised his brows. “With your permission, lieutenant,” Dr. Lytton looked at him. “I’m merely recording the fact, which I don’t think has been recorded, for it doesn’t quite fit in with your ingenious theorizings, that this beard is the product of a man named Lenvier—a well-known London wig-maker. You can read his name on the label here.” The detective scowled. His amiability seemed to have finally abandoned him. “And now,” went on Dr. Lytton, “I am, for reasons entirely apart from the crime or its possible perpetrator, interested to know how you explain the presence of this beard in the dead man’s hand. Also the gum mucilage which you yourself so ably discovered on his face.” “Nothing difficult about that,” Norton answered. “It’s a minor point. Ballau put the thing on himself before his stepdaughter arrived. He was seen wearing it by the housekeeper. But he didn’t show himself for purposes of disguise. He was evidently caught with it on by her unawares. She testified, you remember, that she got only a glimpse of him. You’ll recall that Ballau summoned the girl to tell her that unless of her own accord she renounced her intention of marrying De Medici, he’d expose her that night ... to disgrace. You can easily imagine that his purpose in calling her to come to him was not merely a desire to tell her what he was going to do. He also had the hope of being able to induce her to return to him ... of winning her back, in other words. This man’s brain is not at its clearest and his sense of the fitness of things isn’t at its best at that moment. And he does something which may appeal to you gentleman as ridiculous.” “As long as it explains the beard,” murmured the doctor. “Yes,” snapped Norton, “as long as it explains the beard.” He stared with indignation at the offensive-looking bit of false hair on his desk. “Ballau put it on that night,” he announced savagely, “because he imagined it made him look handsomer and younger. He’d been an actor in his youth.” De Medici stared with incredulous eyes at the man. “What the devil!” he exclaimed. “Are you mad, lieutenant?” As Norton’s reddish face glittered wrathfully at him, De Medici suddenly laughed.... So this was the police theory! Quite a respectable theory of its sort, but bristling incongruously with false Vandykes. Yes, a Vandyke, a humorously homeless Vandyke knocked in vain for admittance.