"Lend me your glass, Simmonds," he said, and when Simmonds handed him
a small pocket magnifying-glass, he unfolded it and bent above the
stains again, scrutinising each in turn. At last he closed the glass
with an emphatic little snap. "This case isn't going to be so
difficult, after all," he said. "Those spots are finger-prints."

With an exclamation of astonishment, Simmonds took the glass and
examined the stains; then he handed it to Godfrey, who finally passed
it on to me. Looking through it, I saw that Goldberger was right. The
stains had been made by human fingers. Most of them were mere
smudges, but here and there was one on which faint lines could be
dimly traced.

"They seem to be pretty vague," I remarked, passing the glass on to
Hinman.

"They're plenty clear enough for our purpose," said Goldberger;
"besides they will come out much clearer in photographs. It's lucky
this stuff is so smooth and closely-woven," he added, fingering a
corner of the robe, "or we wouldn't have got even those. It's as hard
and fine as silk."

"How do you suppose those marks came there, Mr. Goldberger?" Godfrey
asked, and there was in his tone a polite scepticism which evidently
annoyed the coroner.

"Why, there's only one way they could come there," Goldberger answered
impatiently. "They were put there by the murderer's fingers as he drew
the cord tight. Do you see anything improbable in that?"