“I think,” he replied, “that if you examine them with due consideration, you will find their use pretty obvious.  Have a good look at them and the spectacles too.  Think over all that you know of that mysterious group of people who lived in that house, and see if you cannot form some coherent theory of their actions.  Think, also, if we have not some information in our possession by which we might be able to identify some of them, and infer the identity of the others.  You will have a quiet day, as I shall not be home until the evening; set yourself this task.  I assure you that you have the material for identifying—­or rather for testing the identity of—­at least one of those persons.  Go over your material systematically, and let me know in the evening what further investigations you would propose.”

“Very well,” said I.  “It shall be done according to your word.  I will addle my brain afresh with the affair of Mr. Weiss and his patient, and let the Blackmore case rip.”

“There is no need to do that.  You have a whole day before you.  An hour’s really close consideration of the Kennington case ought to show you what your next move should be, and then you could devote yourself to the consideration of Jeffrey Blackmore’s will.”

With this final piece of advice, Thorndyke collected the papers for his day’s work, and, having deposited them in his brief bag, took his departure, leaving me to my meditations.

Chapter XIII

The Statement of Samuel Wilkins

As soon as I was alone, I commenced my investigations with a rather desperate hope of eliciting some startling and unsuspected facts.  I opened the drawer and taking from it the two pieces of reed and the shattered remains of the spectacles, laid them on the table.  The repairs that Thorndyke had contemplated in the case of the spectacles, had not been made.  Apparently they had not been necessary.  The battered wreck that lay before me, just as we had found it, had evidently furnished the necessary information; for, since Thorndyke was in possession of a portrait of Mr. Graves, it was clear that he had succeeded in identifying him so far as to get into communication with some one who had known him intimately.

The circumstance should have been encouraging.  But somehow it was not.  What was possible to Thorndyke was, theoretically, possible to me—­or to anyone else.  But the possibility did not realize itself in practice.  There was the personal equation.  Thorndyke’s brain was not an ordinary brain.  Facts of which his mind instantly perceived the relation remained to other people unconnected and without meaning.  His powers of observation and rapid inference were almost incredible, as I had noticed again and again, and always with undiminished wonder.  He seemed to take in everything at a single glance and in an instant to appreciate the meaning of everything that he had seen.