The photograph was an old one, which had been a
good deal shown in shop windows, much to Ivor's disgust, at about the
time when he returned from his great expedition and published his really
wonderful book. I had seen it before I met him, and as it must have been
on sale in Paris as well as London, it had been easy enough for the
newspaper people to get it. Then there came the story of the murder,
built up dramatically. Hating it, sickened by it, I yet read it all. I
knew where to go to find the house, and I knew that the murder had been
committed in a back room on the top floor. Also I saw the picture of the
window with the balcony. Ivor was supposed--according to Girard, the
detective--to have tried in vain to escape by way of this high balcony,
on hearing sounds outside the door while busy in searching the dead
man's room. Girard said that he had seen him first, by the light of a
bull's-eye lantern, which he--Girard--carried, standing at bay in the
open window. There was a photograph of this window, taken from outside.
There was the balcony: and there was the balcony of another window with
another balcony just like it, on the adjoining house.
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