“But how can you?” asked Constance. "My portrait!" echoed Jack. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. And, while the turnkey was busy with the keys, she whispered to the black, "Follow him, Caliban. That wasn’t even the worst thing. "I was afraid from the scream I heard, that something dreadful had happened, Sir Rowland has a terrible temper indeed—a shocking temper! I declare he frightens me out of my senses. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return.
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