"And there is the pitcher in which the boy put the ice—imitation Sheffield plate."
Going to the window he glanced down into the paved rear court twenty-five or thirty feet below.
"The Major certainly couldn't have escaped through the window," he remarked.
He turned and stood a moment looking into the passageway.
"The boy could easily have seen the light go out in the bed-room, if the door was open. The reflection on the glazed white wall of the passage would have been quite brilliant."
Then, retracing his steps, he entered the bed-room. It contained a small canopied bed facing the door, and beside it stood a night-table on which was an electric lamp. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he looked about him, and turned the lamp on and off by the socket-chain. Presently he fixed his eyes on Markham.
"You see how the Major got out without the boy's knowing it—eh, what?"
"By levitation, I suppose," submitted Markham.
"It amounted to that, at any rate," replied Vance. "Deuced ingenious, too. . . . Listen, Markham:—At half past twelve the Major rang for cracked ice. The boy brought it, and when he entered he looked in through the door, which was open, and saw the Major in bed. The Major told him to put the ice in the pitcher in the living-room. The boy walked on down the passage and across the living-room to the table in the corner. The Major then called to him to learn the time by the clock on the mantel. The boy looked: it was half past twelve.
