She looked at him mournfully. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return. Ennison?” Sir John hesitated. He whispered in her ear. The conflict was of short duration; for Shotbolt was no match for his athletic antagonist. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. Outside stood a stocky, combat boot-clad girl of seventeen with a teased mass of spiky bottle-black hair. The ward in which he was confined, was about six yards in length, and three in width, and in height, might be about twelve feet.
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