"Because," replied Thorndyke, "there would then have been a set of
tracks leading out of the Bay without a corresponding set leading into
it; and this would have instantly suggested to a smart
police-officer--such as Sergeant Payne--a landing from a boat."
"Your explanation is highly ingenious," said the magistrate, "and
appears to cover all the very remarkable facts. Have you anything more
to tell us?"
"No, your Worship," was the reply, "excepting" (here he took from Polton
the last pair of moulds and passed them up to the magistrate) "that you
will probably find these moulds of importance presently."
As Thorndyke stepped from the box--for there was no
cross-examination--the magistrates scrutinized the moulds with an air of
perplexity; but they were too discreet to make any remark.
When the evidence of Professor Copland (which showed that an
unquestionably lethal dose of morphia must have been swallowed) had been
taken, the clerk called out the--to me--unfamiliar name of Jacob Gummer.
Thereupon an enormous pair of brown dreadnought trousers, from the upper
end of which a smack-boy's head and shoulders protruded, walked into the
witness-box.
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