“It is a great disadvantage,” he observed, while still glancing through the paper, “to come plump into an inquiry without preparation—­to be confronted with the details before one has a chance of considering the case in general terms.  For instance—­”

He paused, leaving the sentence unfinished, and as I looked up inquiringly I saw that he had turned over another page, and was now reading attentively.

“This looks like our case, Jervis,” he said presently, handing me the paper and indicating a paragraph at the top of the page.  It was quite brief, and was headed “Terrible Murder in Kent,” the account being as follows: 

“A shocking crime was discovered yesterday morning at the little town of Woldhurst, which lies on the branch line from Halbury Junction.  The discovery was made by a porter who was inspecting the carriages of the train which had just come in.  On opening the door of a first-class compartment, he was horrified to find the body of a fashionably-dressed woman stretched upon the floor.  Medical aid was immediately summoned, and on the arrival of the divisional surgeon, Dr. Morton, it was ascertained that the woman had not been dead more than a few minutes.

[Illustration:  THE DISCOVERY.]

“The state of the corpse leaves no doubt that a murder of a most brutal kind has been perpetrated, the cause of death being a penetrating wound of the head, inflicted with some pointed implement, which must have been used with terrible violence, since it has perforated the skull and entered the brain.  That robbery was not the motive of the crime is made clear by the fact that an expensively fitted dressing-bag was found on the rack, and that the dead woman’s jewellery, including several valuable diamond rings, was untouched.  It is rumoured that an arrest has been made by the local police.”

“A gruesome affair,” I remarked, as I handed back the paper, “but the report does not give us much information.”

“It does not,” Thorndyke agreed, “and yet it gives us something to consider.  Here is a perforating wound of the skull, inflicted with some pointed implement—­that is, assuming that it is not a bullet wound.  Now, what kind of implement would be capable of inflicting such an injury?  How would such an implement be used in the confined space of a railway-carriage, and what sort of person would be in possession of such an implement?  These are preliminary questions that are worth considering, and I commend them to you, together with the further problems of the possible motive—­excluding robbery—­and any circumstances other than murder which might account for the injury.”

“The choice of suitable implements is not very great,” I observed.

“It is very limited, and most of them, such as a plasterer’s pick or a geological hammer, are associated with certain definite occupations.  You have a notebook?”

I had, and, accepting the hint, I produced it and pursued my further reflections in silence, while my companion, with his notebook also on his knee, gazed steadily out of the window.  And thus he remained, wrapped in thought, jotting down an entry now and again in his book, until the train slowed down at Halbury Junction, where we had to change on to a branch line.