accidentally in one or two impressions. But since they both occur in every case, whether the impressions are relatively good or bad, it is practically certain that they existed in the matrix or seal with which the impressions were made. And this conclusion is confirmed by the fact that, in some cases, the defect in the horse’s fore legs is inconsistent with other defects in the same impression.”
“How inconsistent?” Mr. Penfield demanded.
“I mean that the faint impression of the horse’s legs is due to insufficient pressure of the left side of the seal; the seal has not been put down quite vertically. But here—in number 23, for instance—the impression of the chariot and driver on the right-hand side is quite faint and shallow. In that case, the left-hand side of the impression should have been deep and distinct. But both sides are faint, whereas the middle is deep.”
“Might not the seal have been rocked from side to side?”
“No, that would not explain the appearances; for if the seal were rocked from side to side, both sides would be deep, though the middle might be shallow. It is impossible to imagine any kind of pressure which would give an impression shallow on both sides and deep in the middle. The only possible explanation is that the matrix, itself, was shallow on one side.”
Mr. Penfield reflected, helping his cogitations with a pinch of snuff.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Incredible as the thing appears, I think you have made out your case. But doesn’t it strike you as rather odd that this ingenious rascal should not have taken more care to secure a good impression from which to make his false seal?”
“I imagine that he had no choice,” replied Thorndyke. “On each box were six seals; three on the paper wrapping, two in the recesses by the keyhole, and one on the knot of the string. Now, as the paper had to be preserved, the seals could not be torn or cut from that. It would be impossible to get them out of the recesses. There remained only the seals on the knots. These were, of course, much the least perfect, though the string was little more than thread and the knots quite small. But they were the only ones that it was possible to remove, and our friend was lucky to have got as good an impression as he did.”
Mr. Penfield nodded. “Yes,” said he, “you have an answer to every objection. By the way, if the paper had to be preserved so carefully, how do you suppose he got the parcels open? He would have had to break the seals.”
“I think not. I assume that he melted the seals by holding a hot iron close to them and then gently opened the packets while the wax was soft.”
Mr. Penfield chuckled. “Yes,” he admitted, “it is all very complete and consistent. And now to go on to the next point. You say that there is evidence that these boxes were opened by some person other than Hollis himself; a person connected in some way with Woodstock’s office. Further that they were opened, not in the office itself, but in some other place to which they had been taken. I should like to hear that evidence; especially if it should happen to be connected with those mysterious floor-sweepings.”
“As a matter of fact, it is,” Thorndyke replied, with a smile. “But the floor-sweeping was not the first stage. The investigation began with Mr. Hollis’s boxes, from which I extracted every particle of dust that I could obtain; and this dust I examined minutely and exhaustively. The results were unexpectedly illuminating. For instance, from every one of the untouched boxes I obtained one or more moustache hairs.”
“Really! But isn’t that very remarkable?”
“Perhaps it is. But moustache hairs are shed very freely. If you look at the dust from a desk used by a man with a moustache, you will usually see in it quite a number of moustache hairs.”
“I have not noticed that,” said Mr. Penfield, “having no moustache myself. And what else did you obtain by your curious researches?”
“The other result was really very remarkable indeed. From every one of the boxes I obtained particles—in some cases only one or two, in others quite a number—of the very characteristic dust which is shed by worm-eaten furniture.”
“Dear me!” exclaimed Mr. Penfield. “And you were actually able to identify it! Astonishing! Now, I suppose—you must excuse me,” he interpolated with an apologetic smile, “but I am walking in an enchanted land and am ready to expect and believe in any marvels—I suppose you were not able to infer the character of the piece of furniture?
“Not with anything approaching certainty,” replied Thorndyke. “I formed certain opinions; but they are necessarily speculative, and we are dealing with evidence.”
“Quite so, quite so,” said Mr. Penfield. “Let us avoid speculation. But I now begin to see the inwardness of the floor-sweeping. You were tracing this mysterious dust to its place of origin.”
“Exactly. And, naturally, I began with Mr. Hollis’s premises—though the forgery of the seals seemed to put him outside the field of inquiry.”
“Yes; he would hardly have needed to forge his own seal.”
“No. But I examined his premises thoroughly, with an entirely negative result. There was no one on them with a moustache of any kind; the dust from his floors showed not a particle of the wood-dust, and I could find no piece of furniture in his house which could have yielded such dust.
“I then proceeded to Woodstock’s office, and there I obtained abundant samples both of hairs and wood-dust. I found Osmond’s hair-brushes in his desk, and from them obtained a number of moustache hairs which, on careful comparison, appear to be identically similar to those found in the boxes.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Penfield in what sounded like a tone of disapproval. “And as to the wood-dust?”
“I obtained traces of it from every part of the floor. But it was very unequally distributed; so unequally as to associate it quite distinctly with a particular individual. I obtained abundant traces of it from the floor round that individual’s desk, and even more from the inside of the desk; whereas, from the interiors of the other desks I recovered hardly a particle.”
“You refer to ‘a particular individual.’ Do you mean John Osmond?”
“No,” replied Thorndyke. “Osmond’s desk contained no wood-dust.”
“Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Penfield in what sounded very like a tone of satisfaction.
“As to the individual referred to,” said Thorndyke, “I think that, for the present, it might be better—”
“Certainly,” Mr. Penfield interrupted emphatically, “certainly. It will be much better to mention no names. After all, it is but a coincidence, though undoubtedly a striking one. But we must keep an open mind.”
“That is what I feel,” said Thorndyke. “It is an impressive fact, but there is the possibility of some fallacy. Nevertheless it is the most promising clue that offers, and I shall endeavour to follow it up.”
“Undoubtedly,” Mr. Penfield agreed, warmly. “It indicates a new line of inquiry adapted to your peculiar gifts, though to me I must confess it only adds a new complication to this mystery. And I do really find this a most perplexing case. Perhaps you do not?”
“I do, indeed,” replied Thorndyke. “It bristles with contradictions and inconsistencies. Take the case against Osmond. On the one hand it is in the highest degree convincing. The robberies
