"Slightly scraped," I said ruefully, "getting up to that window of yours."
"Exactly, laddie. Exactly. Now for important fact number two."
"Well, just as the wall has had its effect on your shoes, so have your shoes had their effect on the wall. See?"
He pointed to the brickwork. It was quite true. My shoes had made a perceptible discoloration where they had rubbed as I had struggled for my foot-grip.
"And what is more, Bill," continued Anthony, "it's comparatively dry now. Last night was wet, remember. And it may interest you to know that the wall was perfectly clean when I arrived here just now, and Prescott's shoes are certainly not scraped."
"I am. I'm carrying a mental photograph of Prescott about with me, and you can take it from me, Bill, that Prescott never did the climbing trick that you've done this morning. Now where are we?"
"Ask me another," I grunted. "I should think, more in the dark than ever."
"I'm not so sure of that. I'm beginning to see a little more light."
"I'm still holding on, Bill, so don't worry me. Come along here, we'll do a little more prospecting."
We strolled back along the path that led back to the French doors.
"No indication here of which way either of them went," remarked Anthony. "This gravel path hardly takes a foot's impression, which, at the best, would be hours old by now."
He stopped by the French doors. "Yes, Bill, I'm in the dark still with regard to many points. As I said to you previously, there are so many things that don't fit, they seem extraneous to the real core of the crime--all the same, at the risk of becoming monotonous, I think I can see a glimmer of light."
"I want to have another look around Prescott's bedroom. I should also like to glance at his papers--but Baddeley pouched those--his check-book might be interesting too. Yes, I must have another look up there."
"This way. I'm going to ask Sir Charles to cover me by engaging me, so to speak, to clear up the affair on his behalf. You know what I mean. Terrible disgrace to Considine Manor, and all that, to have this mystery unsolved. Poor young fellow done to death, in a charming English country house, where he is staying as a guest. Must get to the bottom of it for the sake of the family name, you know. Otherwise, if Scout Baddeley finds me poking about too much in bedrooms and around footprints, he'll take the bull by the horns and arrest A. L. Bathurst, Esq. Get me, Bill?"