Trent's Last Case

!' calle

ronounced the expected denunciation of a person or persons unknown. Trent, with a hasty glance upward, continued his intent study of what lay in a

isition in Spain. This is a pretty good negative,' he went on, holding it up to the light with his head at the ang

basins, dishes, racks, boxes, and bottles, picked up first one and

table. 'The great thing about a hotel sitting-room is that its beauty does not distract the mind from work. It is no place for the mayfly pleasures of a mind at ease. Have you ever been in this room before, Cupples? I have, hundreds of times. It has pursued me all over England for years. I should feel lost without it if, in some fantastic, far-off hotel, they were to give me some other sitting-room. Look at th

oking after Mabel this morning. I had no idea she was going to feel ill after leaving the box; she seemed quite unmoved, and, really, she is a woman of such extraordinary self-command, I thought I could leave he

f the job when you came in. Come; would you like to see a little bit of high-class police work? It's the very same kind of work that old Murch ought to be doing at this moment. Perhaps he is;

re is a little case of polished walnut. Some of these things have to be put back where they belong in somebody's bedroom at White Gables before night. That's the sort of man I am-nothing stops me. I borrowed them this very

t. 'It is an ordinary glass bowl. It looks like a finger-bowl. I see

nds of it in your time, I expect. They give it to babies. Grey powder is its ordinary name-mercury and chalk. It is great stuff. Now, while I hold the basin sideways over this sheet of paper, I want you to pour a l

returned the fallen powder to the bottle. 'I assure you

his camel-hair brush. Now look at it again. You saw n

aid. 'Yes, there are two large grey finger-ma

tely.' He sprinkled the powder again. 'Here on the other side, you see, is the thumb-mark-very good impressions all of them.' He spoke without raising his voice, but Mr. Cupples could perceive that he was ablaze with excitement as he stared at the faint grey marks. 'This one should be the index finger. I need not tell a man of your knowledge of the world that the pattern of it is a single-spiral whorl, with deltas symmetrically disposed. This, the print of the second finger, is a simple loop, with a staple core and fifteen counts. I know there are fifteen, b

them? What does it all mean?

window with me, I photographed them, sticking a bit of black paper on the other side of the glass for the purpose. The bowl

not be Mabel's

decision. 'They are twice the size o

must be her

He carefully took up with a pair of tweezers one of the leaves cut from his diary, and held it out for the other to examine. No marks appeared on the leaf. He tilted some of the powder out upon one surface of the paper, then, turning it over, upon the other; then shook the leaf gently to rid it of the loose powder. He held it out to Mr. Cupples in silen

walked to the window and looked out. 'Now I know,' he repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. His

print business, and wondered how the police went to work about it. It is of extraordinary inte

I have come upon a fact that looks too much like having very painful consequences if it is discovered by any one else.' He looked at the other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the table with his hand. 'It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I was hoping against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be wrong in th

ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr. Cupples, swallowing his amazement, bent fo