To distract him, Jimmy poked delicately at a curious blackened object on the table.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“That’s exhibit Z,” said Battle. “The last of our little lot. It is, or rather it has been, a glove.”
He picked it up, the charred relic, and manipulated it with pride.
“Where did you find it?” asked Sir Oswald.
Battle jerked his head over his shoulder.
“In the grate—nearly burnt, but not quite. Queer, looks as though it had been chewed by a dog.”
“It might possibly be Miss Wade’s,” suggested Jimmy. “She has several dogs.”
The Superintendent shook his head.
“This isn’t a lady’s glove—no, not even the large kind of loose glove ladies wear nowadays. Fit it on, sir, a moment.”
He adjusted the blackened object over Jimmy’s hand.
“You see—it’s large even for you.”
“Do you attach importance to this discovery?” inquired Sir Oswald coldly.
“You never know, Sir Oswald, what’s going to be important or what isn’t.”
There was a sharp tap at the door and Bundle entered.