and I could find no trace of sawdust in them. But further, the screw
holes show a clear, perfect thread which one would hardly expect if the
coffin had been opened and closed again. Small points, but they promote
speculation. Yesterday, before I met you in Queen's Square, I went to see
the undertakers, and the man who was in charge of the arrangements says
emphatically that there was no sign of the coffin having been opened. A
little sawdust was the first thing he looked for."

"Are you trying to prove that the lead was already in the coffin when it
was taken to the drawing-room?" I asked.

"No. I am only trying to show that it is doubtful whether the coffin was
opened in the drawing-room."

"The change could not have been made in the bedroom, or the lead would
have slipped during the journey downstairs," I said.

"I agree, and we are therefore forced to the assumption that the body was
actually carried to the drawing-room, yet we are doubtful whether the
coffin was opened there."

"I have no doubt," I returned.

"That is a mistake on your part, Wigan. Doubts are often the forerunners
of convictions. My doubt led me to a curious discovery. When I went to
the undertaker's I saw the men who actually made the coffin. It was a
very plain coffin, less expensive than might have been expected for a man
in Sir Grenville's position. Now one of the men, in answer to a careful
question or two, mentioned a curious fact. In the floor of the coffin,
close to the foot of it, there was a wart in the wood. This morning you