I returned home. As soon as I entered the sitting-room, I became conscious that some one was in the bedroom beyond. “If that is Hume again----” It would have gone hard with him, if it had been; but it was not. It was Inspector Symonds and a colleague. It came upon me, with a rush of sickening recollection, that I had actually gone out without putting the room to rights, but with all my possessions lying about just as Hume and I had left them. On the bed was still that irrepressible cloak. Why had I not burnt the thing? Or torn it into rags? Or got rid of it somehow? Anything would have been better than allowing it to continue in existence. The two men were examining it minutely from top to bottom. “What--what are you doing here?” There was a choking something in my throat. They had taken me by surprise; and I was conscious that this was not a case in which physical force could be advantageously employed. “Our duty, Mr. Ferguson. We are acting within the limits of our authority. I have a search-warrant in my pocket. Shall I read it to you, sir?” “What are you searching for in my room?” “For something that will throw light upon the murder of your friend, Mr. Edwin Lawrence. As that is an object for which you will, no doubt, be willing to do anything which lies in your power, you will be glad to hear that we have come upon what looks like a very important piece of evidence. Whose cloak is this, Mr. Ferguson?” “Cloak? What cloak? Oh, that! That’s my cousin’s.” “Indeed. What is your cousin’s name?” “Mary--Miss Mary Ferguson. She was here a few days ago, and, as her nose bled very badly, she left her cloak behind.” My wits were wool-gathering. It was the first invention I could think of. “And were these marks upon the cloak made by your cousin’s nose bleeding?” “Exactly.” “She must have almost bled to death. Did a blood-vessel break?” “No, I don’t think so.” “You don’t think so?” “That is, I’m sure. She has suffered very badly from bleeding at the nose her whole life long; some people do--as you are perhaps aware.” “How long is it since she was your visitor?” “Oh, some days. Quite a week--if not more.” “Is that so? It’s odd that the blood should have continued in a liquid state so long. Some of it is not dry yet.” “Well, perhaps it wasn’t so long as that.” “So I should imagine.” “If you’ll give it to me I’ll pack it up and send it to her at once. I meant to have done so before.” “Let me have her address, and I will send it to her. Or, rather, I will take it to her at once. That will save both time and trouble.” “You are very good, Symonds, but I won’t put you to so much inconvenience. I prefer to take it to her myself.” “You are sure that your cousin’s name isn’t Moore--Miss Bessie Moore?” “What do you mean? Are you presuming again?” “Are you prepared to assert, Mr. Ferguson, that this cloak was not worn by Miss Bessie Moore when, last night, she came out of Mr. Edwin Lawrence’s room?” “I’ll swear it.”