"I'd say one of three things," he answered slowly. "Either the murderer barred Mrs. Gilmore's flight through the door, and she was trying to get out the window--which somehow I don't take much stock in--or the murderer himself came in through the window, or, thirdly, that he got out through the window. In the last two cases it doesn't seem reasonable that he would have taken the time to shut the window behind him. It seems to me that the best thing to do is just store this away for future reference. It doesn't seem to mean much in itself." "No, it doesn't," grunted the physician. "It might not have been torn to-night." Wiggly glanced about the neat, precisely kept room. "She was particular about the orderliness of things," he said. "I don't believe she would have left a torn window curtain unrepaired for long. No, the curtain was torn to-night; but, as I said, we'll just store that away for future reference." And then Doctor Bushnell made a discovery of his own, a half-burned cigarette that had been mashed down into the heavy nap of the rug, some eight feet from the chaise longue and even a farther distance from the door. He gave a brief exclamation, as he pointed to his find. "Sarbella is a cigarette smoker; if this is his brand----" Wiggly Price picked up the cigarette, which evidently had been flattened out beneath the pressure of a shoe. "It's a little hard to believe, doctor, that a man with premeditated murder in his mind, would walk into his victim's room smoking a cigarette," he said quickly. "For that matter, it might be the murdered woman's cigarette--so many women do smoke 'em these modern days." He examined the flattened thing which, as it happened, bore the name of the brand. "Cheap--ten cents a pack. Hardly a woman's cigarette, I'd say. Perhaps Gilmore himself dropped it." "Not Gilmore; I happen to know that he doesn't smoke anything except an occasional after-dinner cigar; but I do recall very clearly that Sarbella was smoking a cigarette downstairs. If he smokes that kind, it's clinching proof that he is the guilty man!" The doctor was becoming quite excited over this clew. "Since Gilmore doesn't smoke them, who else could have dropped it on the rug? Answer me that!" Wiggly took a piece of copy paper from his pocket, carefully wrapped the cigarette butt in it, and tucked this important, or unimportant, bit of evidence in his vest pocket. "As you say, doctor, if it's Sarbella's brand of cigarette it means something--but it's rather difficult to imagine a chap like Sarbella smoking this cheap fag; just about as hard as it is to imagine him walking into this room, a gun in one hand and a cigarette in another, ready to avenge his dead brother. However, when I get to the jail, I'll see the constable and check up on this. I'll have a look at Sarbella's cigarette case."