The housekeeper corroborated Branston in every particular and was allowed to withdraw. Bannister looked at his watch. “It’s so confoundedly late, that it will be extremely difficult to get anything much done to-night. Tell me all you’ve done, so far, Godfrey.” “I’ve had the body photographed and I’ve sent round to all the hotels and boarding-establishments to try to trace by discreet inquiries any young lady visitor who’s been missing, say, since luncheon time to-day.” The Inspector showed his approval. “That’s all right as far as it goes. But she may be a new arrival to the town. She may have just come in. Stay—what about luggage?” “She might have left it somewhere,” responded Godfrey. “At the railway station or at an hotel. The latter, I should be inclined to suggest as the more likely, taking into consideration the class of girl she appears to be.” “Yes,” conceded Bannister. “I think perhaps you’re right. Now about this work-room Branston has been telling us of—have you taken a look in there—I suppose his story is authentic—eh? I can’t help feeling there’s something ‘fishy’ about it somewhere.” “I’ve seen the room—you can come along and see it yourself before we go—I’ll say this—I found nothing there that seemed in any way to contradict his story. I’ve also had the brass bolt on the door treated for finger-prints.” “Good man,” smiled Bannister. “You should certainly find Mrs. Bertenshaw’s there—I suppose you’ve taken hers and Branston’s?” “You bet I have, sir,” grinned the Sergeant. “I’ve got them tucked away all serene.” Bannister frowned and walked across to the stand where stood the tumbler of water. It was almost full. He smelt it. “The purest of pure water, Doctor Renfrew says. Seems like it,” said Bannister. “No odour, certainly.” The Sergeant who was watching him seemed suddenly struck by an idea. “By Jove, sir,” he exclaimed, “I ought to have treated that glass for ‘prints’ as well as the bolt—don’t you agree?” Bannister held the glass high up to the electric light and carefully examined it. “Perhaps you had,” he replied, “if it isn’t too late now to be effective.” Godfrey went through the insufflating process in his usual workman-like manner. With a small insufflator or powder-blower, he exhaled a cloud of light yellow powder which settled on the glass in an even coating. Then he blew at it sharply. Most of the yellow powder was blown off, but a number of smeary yellow impressions were left behind, standing out in strong saffron relief against the white glass. “Something to work on here,” he said. “I’ll have the job completed.” He slipped out but was quickly back. “I suggest we get Mrs. Pearson up here from the station,” he said after a short interval. “The female searcher?” queried the Inspector. “Yes—then we can have the body removed in the morning. If the poor girl’s still unidentified by then, perhaps the underclothes——”