Suddenly he began to draw his hand over the pillow, and then rub his
fingers together. "Why," he exclaimed, "there's sand on the
pillow--silver sand! Now, how can that have come there?"
The surgeon and the detective both came round to verify this discovery,
and an earnest consultation took place as to its meaning.
"Did you notice it, sir?" the inspector asked Thorndyke.
"Yes," replied the latter; "it's an unaccountable thing, isn't it?"
"I don't know that it is, either," said the detective, he ran over to
the washstand, and then uttered a grunt of satisfaction. "It's quite a
simple matter, after all, you see," he said, glancing complacently at my
colleague. "There's a ball of sand-soap on the washstand, and the basin
is full of blood-stained water. You see, she must have washed the blood
off her hands, and off the knife, too--a pretty cool customer she must
be--and she used the sand-soap. Then, while she was drying her hands,
she must have stood over the head of the bed, and let the sand fall on
to the pillow. I think that's clear enough."
"Admirably clear," said Thorndyke; "and what do you suppose was the
sequence of events?"
The gratified detective glanced round the room.
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