Short Stories
"No, certainly not. No one knew."
"Where is Bannister now?"
"He was very ill, poor fellow. I left him collapsed in the chair.
I was in such a hurry to come to you."
"You left your door open?"
"I locked up the papers first."
"Then it amounts to this, Mr. Soames: that, unless the Indian
student recognized the roll as being proofs, the man who tam-
pered with them came upon them accidentally without knowing
that they were there."
"So it seems to me."
Holmes gave an enigmatic smile.
"Well," said he, "let us go round. Not one of your cases, Wat-
son—mental, not physical. All right; come if you want to. Now,
Mr. Soames—at your disposal!"
The sitting-room of our client opened by a long, low, latticed
window on to the ancient lichen-tinted court of the old college.
A Gothic arched door led to a worn stone staircase. On the
ground floor was the tutor's room. Above were three students,
one on each story. It was already twilight when we reached the
scene of our problem. Holmes halted and looked earnestly at the
window. Then he approached it, and, standing on tiptoe with his
neck craned, he looked into the room.
"He must have entered through the door. There is no open-
ing except the one pane," said our learned guide.
50