Mr. Ludgrove broke in upon his meditations. “I took the liberty of examining it under a powerful glass,” he said, nodding his head towards the bench. “It seems to be an ordinary bone counter and the figure VI has been drawn upon it with a steel pen and red ink.” “Just as the others were,” agreed Whyland. “I’ll keep this counter, if you don’t mind. I want to add it to my collection. Now I suppose I had better step across and see Copperdock. I should like you to come with me, if you can spare the time.” “I think I can risk shutting the shop for a few minutes,” replied the herbalist. “I get very few customers in the morning. Most of the people who require my services are at work all day.” “Dishonest work, I’ll be bound,” said Whyland chaffingly. “Well, come along, then.” They went across to Mr. Copperdock’s shop together, and were shown by the tobacconist into the room behind the shop, which was used as an office. At one side was a table upon which stood a Planet typewriter, at the other a desk. Inspector Whyland seated himself at the latter, selected one of the pens before him, and dipped it into an inkpot, which happened to contain red ink. “Now then, Mr. Copperdock,” he said. “Tell me exactly what happened yesterday evening.” The tobacconist immediately launched into an account of his adventure. Whyland listened patiently, occasionally making a brief note with the pen. “You say that nobody could have entered the house while you were out?” he asked, as Mr. Copperdock came to the end of his story. “Quite impossible,” replied Mr. Copperdock emphatically. “There’s only one door, with a spring lock which catches when you shuts it.” “H’m. I’d like to have a look round, if you don’t mind,” said the Inspector. He examined the house carefully. On the ground floor was the shop, and behind it the office and a little kitchen containing a gas stove. The windows of these did not open, and were high up in the wall, and covered with a stout iron grating. There was no back entrance. From a narrow passage a staircase ran up to the first floor, upon which were two bedrooms, occupied respectively by Mr. Copperdock and his son, and a sitting-room. The bedrooms were over the shop, and looked out upon Praed Street. The sitting-room was at the back, and looked out over an enclosed yard, belonging to a transport contractor, and used for storing vans at night. The windows on the first floor were obviously inaccessible without the aid of a ladder. Above the first floor were a couple of attics, lighted only by skylights, which were closed and padlocked. From the cobwebs which covered them, it was obvious that they had not been opened for a long time. Inspector Whyland returned to the first floor. “Were these windows closed and fastened while you were out last night?” he enquired. “The sitting-room was,” replied Ted, who had followed them upstairs. “I looked at it when I came in. It hasn’t been touched since.”