“Surely it is evident that it is unequal in its intensity. There is a dot of extravasated blood here, and another there. There are similar indications in this other weal down here. What can that mean?”
“I have no idea. Have you?”
“Perhaps I have. Perhaps I haven’t. I may be able to say more soon. Anything which will define what made that mark will bring us a long way towards the criminal.”
“It is, of course, an absurd idea,” said the policeman, “but if a red-hot net of wire had been laid across the back, then these better marked points would represent where the meshes crossed each other.”
“A most ingenious comparison. Or shall we say a very stiff cat-o’-nine-tails with small hard knots upon it?”
“By Jove, Mr. Holmes, I think you have hit it.”
“Or there may be some very different cause, Mr. Bardle. But your case is far too weak for an arrest. Besides, we have those last words—the ‘Lion’s Mane.’ ”
“I have wondered whether Ian—”
“Yes, I have considered that. If the second word had borne any resemblance to Murdoch—but it did not. He gave it almost in a shriek. I am sure that it was ‘Mane.’ ”
“Have you no alternative, Mr. Holmes?”
“Perhaps I have. But I do not care to discuss it until there is something more solid to discuss.”
“And when will that be?”
“In an hour—possibly less.”