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"And that somebody isn't Davenant. Davenant, poor fellow, is under lock and key."

"It's a rum thing about that cipher," said Gordon. "When we've got it it doesn't seem to help us in the least, but whenever we want to get at it, it always seems that the important document has disappeared."

"It's getting on my nerves," admitted Reeves. "Seems to me I can't leave my room without something queer turning up."

"Look here, Carmichael," said Gordon, "this is where you come in. Get out your stethoscope and go down on all-fours and find clues for us."

"I am afraid that a person entering a room and taking a book away does not commonly leave very much mark on the surroundings. Let's take a look round, by all means⁠—it's Sunday, after all, and the housemaid won't have been dusting. Maids, you will notice, always polish the grates on Sunday but do not dust the rooms; why, I cannot say. Whereabouts did you put the book, Reeves?"

"On that shelf there, the top but one."

"It was natural for you to put it there, because it's within your reach. But you're tall⁠—I wonder if the other gentleman was shorter? I think a chair would be useful here. . . . Thank you. Yes, he was a good deal shorter. He had to stand on tiptoe to reach the book, and balanced himself, as we all do in such circumstances, by resting the four finger-tips of his left hand on the edge of the shelf beneath. In that way, you see, he could get the