on his knees, carefully avoiding any touch with the stains on the floor, he followed the blood-marks over to the spot, close under the great safe, where the body had lain.  All around and about this spot he went for a radius of some yards; but seemingly did not meet with anything to arrest special attention.  Then he examined the front of the safe; round the lock, and along the bottom and top of the double doors, more especially at the places of their touching in front.

Next he went to the windows, which were fastened down with the hasps.

“Were the shutters closed?” he asked Miss Trelawny in a casual way as though he expected the negative answer, which came.

All this time Doctor Winchester was attending to his patient; now dressing the wounds in the wrist or making minute examination all over the head and throat, and over the heart.  More than once he put his nose to the mouth of the senseless man and sniffed.  Each time he did so he finished up by unconsciously looking round the room, as though in search of something.

Then we heard the deep strong voice of the Detective: 

“So far as I can see, the object was to bring that key to the lock of the safe.  There seems to be some secret in the mechanism that I am unable to guess at, though I served a year in Chubb’s before I joined the police.  It is a combination lock of seven letters; but there seems to be a way of locking even the combination.  It is one of Chatwood’s; I shall call at their place and find out something about it.”  Then turning to the Doctor, as though his own work were for the present done, he said: 

“Have you anything you can tell me at once, Doctor, which will not interfere with your full report?  If there is any doubt I can wait, but the sooner I know something definite the better.”  Doctor Winchester answered at once: 

“For my own part I see no reason in waiting.  I shall make a full report of course.  But in the meantime I shall tell you all I know—­which is after all not very much, and all I think—­which is less definite.  There is no wound on the head which could account for the state of stupor in which the patient continues.  I must, therefore, take it that either he has been drugged or is under some hypnotic influence.  So far as I can judge, he has not been drugged—­at least by means of any drug of whose qualities I am aware.  Of course, there is ordinarily in this room so much of a mummy smell that it is difficult to be certain about anything having a delicate aroma.  I dare say that you have noticed the peculiar Egyptians scents, bitumen, nard, aromatic gums and spices, and so forth.  It is quite possible that somewhere in this room, amongst the curios and hidden by stronger scents, is some substance or liquid which may have the effect we see.  It is possible that the patient has taken some drug, and that he may in some sleeping phase have injured himself.  I do not think this is likely; and circumstances, other than those which I have myself been investigating, may prove that this surmise is not correct.  But in the meantime it is possible; and must, till it be disproved, be kept within our purview.”  Here Sergeant Daw interrupted: