"That's strange," Candy said.

"It gets stranger," Norma said.

She went to the small table beside the bed and opened the drawer. In it was a copy of Gideon's Bible and a strange object made of what looked like brass. She took it out.

"According to the stories," she said, "this is the only object of any worth he had with him."

"What is it?"

Norma handed it to Candy. It was heavy and etched with numbers. There was a moving part that was designed to line up with the numbers.

"It's a sextant," Norma said.

Candy looked blank. "What's a sextant?"

"It's something sailors use to find out where they are when they're out at sea. I don't exactly know how it works, but you line it up with the stars somehow and…" She shrugged. "You find out where you are."

"And he had this with him?"

"As I say: according to the stories. This very one."

"Wouldn't the police have taken it?" Candy said.

"You would think so. But as long as I've been working in the hotel that thing has been here in that drawer, beside the Gideon's Bible. Henry Murkitt's sextant."

"Huh," said Candy, not at all sure what to make of any of this now. She handed the object back to Norma, who carefullyeven a little reverentlyreturned it to its place and slid the drawer closed. "So that and the note were all he left?" Candy asked.

"No," said Norma. "He left something else."

"What?"

"Look around you," Norma replied.

Candy looked. What was there here that could have belonged to Henry Murkitt? The furniture? Surely not? The age-worn rug under her feet? Perhaps, but it was unlikely. The lamp? No. What did that leave? There weren't any pictures on the walls, so—

"Oh, wait a minute," she said, looking at the stains on the wall. "Not those?"

Norma just looked at her, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Those?" Candy said.

"No matter how many coats of paint the workmen put on that wall, the stains show through."