His eyes appeared more protuberant than ever.

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.