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"How did that land there?" he mused aloud. "The table-cloth is
bloodless."
Craig appeared to think a moment. Then he unlocked and opened the
door. A current of air was created and blew the cloth aside.
"Clearly," he exclaimed, "that drop of blood was wafted under the
table as the door was opened. The chances are all that it came
from a cut on perhaps the hand or face of the murderer himself."
It seemed to be entirely reasonable, for the bloodstains about the
room were such as to indicate that he had been badly cut by the
carving-knife.
"Whoever attacked the chef must have been deeply wounded," I
remarked, picking up the bloody knife and looking about at the
stains, comparatively few of which could have come from the one
deep fatal wound in the head of the victim.
Kennedy was still engrossed in a study of the stains, evidently
considering that their size, shape, and location might throw some
light on what had occurred. "Walter," he said finally, "while I'm
busy here, I wish you would find that valet, Edward.


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