To the right and some distance back from
the road was the timber-yard which had been the scene of the
fire. Here's a rough plan on a leaf of my note-book. This
window on the left is the one which opens into Oldacre's room.
You can look into it from the road, you see. That is about the
only bit of consolation I have had to-day. Lestrade was not
there, but his head constable did the honours. They had just
made a great treasure-trove. They had spent the morning raking
among the ashes of the burned wood-pile, and besides the charred
organic remains they had secured several discoloured metal
discs. I examined them with care, and there was no doubt that
they were trouser buttons. I even distinguished that one of
them was marked with the name of `Hyams,' who was Oldacre's
tailor. I then worked the lawn very carefully for signs and
traces, but this drought has made everything as hard as iron.
Nothing was to be seen save that some body or bundle had been
dragged through a low privet hedge which is in a line with the
wood-pile. All that, of course, fits in with the official
theory. I crawled about the lawn with an August sun on my back,
but I got up at the end of an hour no wiser than before.
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