“English, I should say, and just over.”

“English, without a doubt.  I’ll go speak to him; you wait here, but watch out for the Coroner, and send him my way as soon as he’s at leisure.”

Then he reapproached the bench, and observing, with the keenness with which he observed everything without a direct look, that with each step he took the stranger’s confusion increased, he decided to wait till after he had finished with the others, before he entered upon an inquiry which might prove not only lengthy but of the first importance.

He was soon very glad that he had done this.  He got nothing from Mr. Simpson; but the questions put to Mr. Turnbull were more productive.  Almost at the first word, this gentleman acknowledged that he had seen a movement in the great square of tapestry to which Mr. Gryce drew his attention.  He did not know when, or just where he stood at the time, but he certainly had noticed it shake.

“Can you describe the movement?” asked the gratified detective.

“It swayed out——­”

“As if blown by some wind?”

“No, more as if pushed forward by a steady hand.”

“Good!  And what then?”

“It settled back almost without a quiver.”

“Instantly?”

“No, not instantly.  A moment or two passed before it fell back into place.”

“This was before the attendant Correy called out his alarm, of course?”

Yes, of course it was before; but how long before, he couldn’t say.  A minute—­two minutes—­five minutes—­how could he tell!  He had no watch in hand.

Mr. Gryce thought possibly he might assist the man’s memory on this point but forbore to do so at the time.  It was enough for his present purpose that the necessary link to the establishment of his theory had been found.  No more doubt now that the bow lying in the niche of the doorway overhead had been the one made use of in this desperate tragedy; and the way thus cleared for him, he could confidently proceed in his search for the man who had flung it there.  He believed him to be within his reach at that very moment, but his countenance gave no index to his thought as reapproaching the young man now sitting all alone on the bench, he halted before him and pleasantly inquired: 

“Do I see you for the first time?  I thought we had listed the name of every person in the building.  How is it that we did not get yours?”

The tide of color which instantly flooded the young man’s countenance astonished Mr. Gryce both by its warmth and fullness.  If he were as thin-skinned as this betokened, one should experience but little difficulty in reaching the heart of his trouble.

With an air of quiet interest Mr. Gryce sat down by the young man’s side.  Would this display of friendliness have the effect of restoring some of his self-possession and giving him the confidence he evidently lacked?  No, the red fled from his cheek, and a ghastly white took its place; but he showed no other change.