I held my breath as Holmes pulled back the curtain and revealed—four suits!
"Oh!" Soames grabbed my arm in relief.
I gave him a reassuring smile. "Nobody's there!"
Meanwhile Holmes' attention was suddenly drawn to something on the floor. "What's this?"
The detective picked up a piece of black clay exactly like the one on Soames' desk. "Your visitor seems to have left traces in your bedroom as well as your sitting room."
Soames looked puzzled. "What could he have wanted in here?"
"When you came back unexpectedly, he gathered up his things and rushed into your bedroom to hide."
Soames' eyes widened in surprise. "Do you mean that the whole time I was talking to Bannister, the culprit was in here?"
"You had him prisoner, and you didn't even know it." Holmes rubbed his hands together and strode out of the bedroom. "Now, Mr. Soames, if you would be so good as to summon your servant . . ."
Bannister was a short fellow in his fifties, who kept taking deep breaths to calm himself. I wondered if he was still suffering from the shocking disruption of his quiet routine.
"Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson are investigating our unhappy discovery," Soames said.
Bannister nodded in our direction but didn't venture very far into the sitting room.
"I understand that you left your key in the door," Holmes said.
"Yes, sir. I had the tea tray in my hands. I intended to come back for the key, but then I forgot."
"You were quite upset when you and Mr. Soames discovered that the proofs had been tampered with?"
"Oh yes, sir. Nothing like this has ever happened since I've worked here. I nearly fainted, sir!"
Holmes went on with his questioning. "And where were you when you started feeling ill?"
"Here, near the door."
"That's odd because you collapsed into the desk chair. Why did you cross the room to the desk chair when another one was right here?"
"I don't know, sir." Bannister nervously licked his lips. "I just needed to sit down."
Soames was quick to come to Bannister's rescue. "He really was looking ghastly."
Holmes quizzed the servant for a few more minutes. "What did you do after Mr. Soames went in search of me?"
"I sat here for a few minutes, and then I locked the door and went to my room."
"Is there anyone you think might try to cheat on the exam?" Holmes said.
Bannister shook his head vehemently. "I can't believe that any young gentleman in this college would try such a thing!"
"One last question," Holmes said. "Have you mentioned this incident to the three students who live above Mr. Soames?"
Bannister said no, and Holmes dismissed him.
"Now, Mr. Soames, let's return to the courtyard."
Holmes headed outside, but I remained with Soames while he locked his door. When we reached the courtyard, Holmes was looking up at the rooms above Soames' rooms. It was dark outside now, and lights were on in all three rooms. "Your three birds are in their nests," Holmes said, "but one of them seems restless."
Daulat Ras' silhouette appeared on his shade, pacing.
"I'd like to talk to each of them without giving away my purpose," Holmes said. "Is that possible?"
"Yes, it should be easy." Soames turned to lead us inside. "These rooms are some of the oldest in the college. It's not unusual for visitors to want to see them."
Soames was about to knock on Richard Gilchrist's door when Holmes cautioned him. "No names, please. I don't want anyone to know who I am."
After Soames knocked, a tall, blond student let us in. The room did contain some interesting architectural details, and Holmes was particularly delighted by the fireplace. He was in the midst of sketching it in his notebook when his pencil broke. After borrowing a pencil from Gilchrist, he resumed sketching and then borrowed a knife to sharpen his own pencil.
The same thing happened in Ras' room. The student eyed us skeptically but produced a pencil and a knife for Holmes to use.
Miles McLaren was the only student who refused to let us in.
"I don't care who you are!" he shouted through his closed door. "Go away! I'm studying for an important exam."
"What a rude fellow!" Soames huffed and led us back downstairs. "Of course, he didn't realize I was at the door too, but his behavior was disrespectful and suspicious."
I found Holmes' next question to be rather strange. He asked Soames how tall McLaren was.
"Really, Mr. Holmes, I have no idea." Soames seemed impatient and annoyed. "I would say he's taller than Ras but shorter than Gilchrist."
"That could be important," Holmes said. "And now I wish you good night."
"What?" Soames uttered a cry of dismay. "Surely you're not going to leave me now! You don't seem to understand the position I'm in. If you don't find the culprit soon, I can't allow the exam to take place tomorrow."
Holmes tried to soothe him. "There's no need to take any action tonight. Finish reading your proofs and send them to the printer. When I return first thing tomorrow, I hope to be able to straighten everything out."
"Hope?" Soames cried.
From the look on his face, Soames was obviously not soothed. But Holmes left the teacher's rooms anyway, taking the two pieces of black clay, the pencil shavings, and the broken lead.
As we went through the college gates, Holmes asked my opinion on the case.
"I'd say McLaren is guilty because he wouldn't let us in, but Ras was acting suspiciously too. Why was he pacing across his room if he wasn't anxious about something?"
"Many people do that when they're trying to memorize something," Holmes said.
"Yes, but he looked annoyed when we met him."
"You'd look annoyed too, Watson, if two strangers invaded your room while you were preparing for an important exam. No, I don't have a problem with that. And there was nothing strange about the students' pencils and knives. "But Bannister puzzles me. What's he up to?"
"He seemed honest to me," I said.
"Exactly," Holmes said as we crossed the street. "So, why would an honest man—oh, never mind. Let's go into this stationery store. Luckily, the shops stay open late in this college town."
At each of our four stationery stores, Holmes showed his pencil shavings to a clerk. The clerks all recognized the Faber brand, but none remembered selling the unusual blue pencil.
Back on the street, Holmes sighed. "That wasn't very helpful, but I think I know who the cheater is."
"Who?" At this point I was desperately hungry for supper and wanted a break from this case.
"Patience, my dear Watson." Holmes smiled at me. "All will be revealed tomorrow—after I check one final detail."