Part 17 (1/2)
”You're a lot of use, aren't you? As a start, you'd better examine the scene of the robbery, I should say.”
Pillingshot reluctantly left the room.
”Well?” said Scott, when he returned. ”Any clues?”
”No.”
”You thoroughly examined the scene of the robbery?”
”I looked under the bed.”
”_Under_ the bed? What's the good of that? Did you go over every inch of the strip of carpet leading to the chair with a magnifying-gla.s.s?”
”Hadn't got a magnifying-gla.s.s.”
”Then you'd better buck up and get one, if you're going to be a detective. Do you think Sherlock Holmes ever moved a step without his?
Not much. Well, anyhow. Did you find any foot-prints or tobacco-ash?”
”There was a jolly lot of dust about.”
”Did you preserve a sample?”
”No.”
”My word, you've a lot to learn. Now, weighing the evidence, does anything strike you?”
”No.”
”You're a bright sort of sleuth-hound, aren't you! It seems to me I'm doing all the work on this case. I'll have to give you another leg-up.
Considering the time when the quid disappeared, I should say that somebody in the dormitory must have collared it. How many fellows are there in Evans' dormitory?”
”I don't know.”
”Cut along and find out.”
The detective reluctantly trudged off once more.
”Well?” said Scott, on his return.
”Seven,” said Pillingshot. ”Counting Evans.”
”We needn't count Evans. If he's a.s.s enough to steal his own quids, he deserves to lose them. Who are the other six?”
”There's Trent. He's prefect.”
”The Napoleon of Crime. Watch his every move. Yes?”
”Simms.”