of a clue if I moved a solitary object, and so—­Look! there is the drawn blind just as he left it; there his portmanteau on that chair by the bedside, and there—­” Her voice sank to a sort of awed whisper, her shaking finger extended in the direction of a blue semi-circle in the middle of the floor.  “There is the belt!  He had it round his waist when he crossed this threshold that night.  It was lying there just as you see it when the servant brought up his tea and his shaving-water the next morning, and found the room empty and the bed undisturbed.”

Cleek walked forward and picked up the belt.

“Humph!  Unfastened!” he said as he took it up; and Miss Morrison, closing the door, went below and left them.  “Our wonderful wizard does not seem to have mastered the simple matter of making a man vanish out of the thing without first unfastening the buckle, it appears.  I should have thought he could have managed that, shouldn’t you, Mr. Narkom, if he could have managed the business of making him melt into thin air?  Hur-r-r!” reflectively, as he turned the belt over and examined it.  “Not seen much use, apparently; the leather’s quite new, and the inside quite unsoiled.  British manufactured brass, too, in the buckle.  Shouldn’t have expected that in a Persian-made article.  Inscription scratched on with the point of a knife, or some other implement not employed in metal engraving.  May I trouble you for a pin?  Thank you.  Hum-m-m!  Thought so.  Some dirty, clayey stuff rubbed in to make the letters appear old and of long standing.  Look here, Mr. Narkom:  metal quite bright underneath when you pick the stuff out.  Inscription very recently added; leather, American tanned; brass, Birmingham; stitching, by the Blake shoe and harness machine; wizard—­probably born in Tottenham Court Road, and his knowledge of Persia confined to Persian powder in four-penny tins.”

He laid the belt aside, and walked slowly round the room, inspecting its contents before turning his attention to the portmanteau.

“Evidently the vanishing qualities of the belt did not assert themselves very rapidly, Mr. Narkom,” he said, “for Mr. Carboys not only prepared to go to bed, but had time to get himself ready to hurry off to business in the morning with as little delay as possible.  Look here; here are his pyjamas on the top of this chest of drawers, neatly folded, just as he lifted them out of his portmanteau; and as a razor has been wiped on this towel (see this slim line of dust-like particles of hair), he shaved before going to bed in order to save himself the trouble of doing so in the morning.  But as there is no shaving-mug visible, and he couldn’t get hot water at that hour of the night, we shall probably discover a spirit-lamp and its equipment when we look into the portmanteau.  Now, as he had time to put these shaving articles away after using, and as no man shaves with his collar and necktie on, if we do not find those, too, in the portmanteau, we may