"
"So it seems to me."
Holmes gave an enigmatic smile.
"Well," said he. "let us go round. Not one of your cases.
Watson -- mental, not physical. All right; come if you want to.
Now, Mr. Soames -- at your disposal!"
The sitting-room of our client opened by a long, low, latticed
window on to the ancient lichen-tinted court of the old college.
A Gothic arched door led to a worn stone staircase. On the
ground floor was the tutor's room. Above were three students,
one on each story. It was already twilight when we reached the
scene of our problem. Holmes halted and looked earnestly at the
window. Then he approached it, and, standing on tiptoe with his
neck craned, he looked into the room.
"He must have entered through the door. There is no opening
except the one pane," said our learned guide.
"Dear me!" said Holmes, and he smiled in a singular way as
he glanced at our companion. "Well, if there is nothing to be
learned here, we had best go inside."
The lecturer unlocked the outer door and ushered us into his
room. We stood at the entrance while Holmes made an examina-
tion of the carpet.
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