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Page 80
"He has been heavily drugged," said the Doctor, sniffing at
West's lips, "but I cannot say what drug has been used.
It isn't chloroform or anything of that nature.
He can safely be left to sleep it off, I think."
I agreed, after a brief examination.
"It's most extraordinary," said Weymouth. "He rang up the Yard
about an hour ago and said his chambers had been invaded by Chinamen.
Then the man at the 'phone plainly heard him fall. When we got here his
front door was bolted, as you've seen, and the windows are three floors up.
Nothing is disturbed."
"The plans of the aero-torpedo?" rapped Smith.
"I take it they are in the safe in his bedroom,"
replied the detective, "and that is locked all right. I think
he must have taken an overdose of something and had illusions.
But in case there was anything in what he mumbled (you could
hardly understand him) I thought it as well to send for you."
"Quite right," said Smith rapidly. His eyes shone like steel.
"Lay him on the bed, Inspector."
It was done, and my friend walked into the bedroom.
Save that the bed was disordered, showing that West had been
sleeping in it, there were no evidences of the extraordinary
invasion mentioned by the drugged man. It was a small room--
the chambers were of that kind which are let furnished--and very neat.
A safe with a combination lock stood in a corner. The window was open
about a foot at the top. Smith tried the safe and found it fast.
He stood for a moment clicking his teeth together, by which I knew
him to be perplexed. He walked over to the window and threw it up.
We both looked out.
"You see," came Weymouth's voice, "it is altogether too far from
the court below for our cunning Chinese friends to have fixed a ladder
with one of their bamboo rod arrangements. And, even if they could
get up there, it's too far down from the roof--two more stories--
for them to have fixed it from there."
Smith nodded thoughtfully, at the same time trying the strength of an iron
bar which ran from side to side of the window-sill. Suddenly he stooped,
with a sharp exclamation. Bending over his shoulder I saw what it was
that had attracted his attention.
Clearly imprinted upon the dust-coated gray stone of the sill was a confused
series of marks--tracks call them what you will.
Smith straightened himself and turned a wondering look upon me.
"What is it, Petrie?" he said amazedly. "Some kind of bird has been here,
and recently." Inspector Weymouth in turn examined the marks.
"I never saw bird tracks like these, Mr. Smith," he muttered.
Smith was tugging at the lobe of his ear.
"No," he returned reflectively; "come to think of it, neither did I."
He twisted around, looking at the man on the bed.
"Do you think it was all an illusion?" asked the detective.
"What about those marks on the window-sill?" jerked Smith.
He began restlessly pacing about the room, sometimes stopping
before the locked safe and frequently glancing at Norris West.
Suddenly he walked out and briefly examined the other apartments,
only to return again to the bedroom.
"Petrie," he said, "we are losing valuable time.
West must be aroused."
Inspector Weymouth stared.
Smith turned to me impatiently. The doctor summoned by the police had gone.
"Is there no means of arousing him, Petrie?" he said.
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