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On the morning of the discovery, Arthur, being in the neighbourhood of the "boot-box," thought he would have a look round. There was no fear of his mistaking the place; he had been there before, and seen Mr Bickers come out of the sack. Everything was pretty much as it had been left.
Railsford gave a careful account of the discovery of Mr Bickers in the boot-box, and was conscious that the doctor, although he gave little sign of it, was not quite blind to the unfortunate position in which he, as the new master of the offending house, was placed. "Have a call-over of your house at ten o'clock, Mr Railsford. I will come."
One was that the door of the boot-box was a very narrow one, and, closing-to by a spring, it would either have had to be held open or propped open while Mr Bickers was being hauled in by his captors. He found that to hold it open wide he would have to get behind it and shut himself up between it and the stairs.
On the dusty floor could clearly be perceived the place where Mr Bickers had rolled about in his uncomfortable shackles during the night, and on the ledge of the dim window which let light into the boot-box from the lobby still stood the tumbler which Arthur himself had officiously fetched an hour or two ago. One or two things occurred to Arthur which had not previously struck him.
It contained wax vestas, with curiously coloured purple heads, which on examination corresponded exactly with the matches he had picked up on the floor of the boot-box. "Oh," said Arthur to himself, very red in the face, "here's a go!" and he bolted up to his room.
"Does this sort of thing often happen?" asked Miriam, finding herself bending over a boot-box at Gertrude's side. Gertrude turned and winked at her. "Only sometimes." "What an awful temper she must have," pursued Miriam. Gertrude laughed. Breakfast the next morning was a gay feast.
At the foot of the stairs he turned sharp round, and following the wall with his hand, came at length on the familiar handle of the "boot-box." To his surprise the door was locked, but the key was on the outside. "A sell if I hadn't been able to get in," said he to himself, opening the door.
"I only opened the door of the boot-box, and helped drag him in. I had nothing to do with the scragging. Branscombe did all that himself, and Clipstone hung to his legs." It needed all the self-control of the three prefects to refrain from an exclamation of astonishment at this wonderful disclosure. "Are you telling the truth?" demanded Ainger.
The box had been placed above the door very recently by someone who, unless he stood on a form or climbed on somebody else's back, must have been more than six feet high. No one puts matches above doors by accident. Whoever put it there must have meant it and more than that, must have opened it and dropped one out inside the boot-box.
Didn't you tell me yourself it was seven feet two to the top of the ledge?" "There you are! Keep your hair on! That's what I wanted! Seven foot two. Now suppose you were told a box of wax lights was found stuck upon that ledge, and that two of the matches out of it were found on the floor of the boot-box cellar, I mean what should you think?"
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