“There is one I wish it would tell, if it knows it,” I said.  “I wish it would tell who killed Philip Vantine.  I suppose you will agree with me that our pretty theory has got a knock-out blow, this time.”

“It looks that way, doesn’t it?”

“There is no poisoned mechanism about that drawer—­that’s sure,” I added.

“No, and never has been,” Godfrey agreed.

“And that leaves us all at sea, doesn’t it?  It leaves the whole affair more mysterious than ever.  I can’t understand it,” and I sat down in my bewilderment and rubbed my head.  I really felt for an instant as though I had gone mentally blind.  “There is one thing sure,” I added.  “The killing, whatever its cause, was done out there in the ante-room, not in here.”

“What makes you think that?”

“We believe that Drouet came here to get Vantine’s permission to open this drawer and get the letters, no doubt representing himself as the agent of their owner.”

“I think it’s a pretty good guess,” said Godfrey, pensively.

“Our theory was that, after being shown into the ante-room, he discovered the cabinet, tried to open the drawer, and was killed in the attempt.  But it is evident enough now that there is nothing about that drawer to hurt any one.”

“Yes, that’s evident, I think,” Godfrey agreed.

“If he had opened the drawer, then, he would have taken the letters, since there was nothing to prevent him.  Since they were not taken, it follows, doesn’t it, that he was killed before he had a chance at the drawer?  Perhaps he never saw the cabinet.  He must have been killed out there in the ante-room, a few minutes after Parks left.”

“And how about Vantine?” Godfrey asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, helplessly.  “He didn’t want the letters—­if he opened the drawer at all, it was merely out of curiosity to see how it worked.  Only, of course, the same agency that killed Drouet, killed him.  Yes—­and now that I think of it, it’s certain he didn’t open the drawer, either.”

“How do you know it’s certain?”

“If he had opened the drawer,” I pointed out, “and been killed in the act of opening it, it would have been found open.  I had thought that perhaps it closed of itself, but you see that it does not.  You have to push it shut, and then snap the handle up into place.”

“That’s true,” Godfrey assented, “and it sounds pretty conclusive.  If it is true of Vantine, it is also true of Drouet.  The inference is, then, that neither of them opened the drawer.  Well, what follows?”

“I don’t know,” I said helplessly.  “Nothing seems to follow.”

“There is an alternative,” Godfrey suggested.

“What is it?” I demanded.

“The hand that killed Drouet and Vantine may also have closed the drawer,” said Godfrey, and looked at me.

“And left the letters in it?” I questioned.  “Surely not!”

He glanced at the shuttered window, and I understood to whom he thought that hand belonged.