Andwhat would the immediate effect be? asked Mr. Tertius.
He would probably start violently, make as if to rise, drop forward against the desk and graduallybut quicklysubside to the floor in the position in which he was found, replied the doctor. As he fell he would relinquish his grip on the revolverit is invariably a tight grip in these casesand it would falljust where it was found.
Still, there is nothing to disprove the theory that the revolver may have been placedwhere it was found? suggested Mr. Tertius.
Oh, certainly it may have been placed there! said the doctor, with another shrug of the shoulders. A cool and calculating murderer may have placed it there, of course.
Just so, agreed Mr. Tertius. He remained silently gazing at the hearthrug for a while; then he turned to the doctor again. Now, how long do you think Mr. Herapath had been dead when you were called to the body? he asked.
Quite eight hours, answered the doctor promptly.
Eight hours! exclaimed Mr. Tertius. And you first saw him at
A quarter past eight, said the doctor. I should say he died just about midnight.
Midnight! murmured Mr. Tertius. Midnight? Then
Before he could say more, a policeman, stationed in the corridor outside, opened the door of the room, and glancing at his inspector, announced the arrival of Mr. Barthorpe Herapath.
CHAPTER III
BARTHORPE TAKES CHARGE
The man who strode into the room as the policeman threw the door open for him immediately made two distinct impressions on the inspector and the doctor, neither of whom had ever seen him before. The first was that he instantly conveyed a sense of alert coolness and self-possession; the second that, allowing for differences of age, he was singularly like the dead man who lay in their midst. Both were tall, well-made men; both were clean-shaven; both were much alike as to feature and appearance. Apart from the fact that Jacob Herapath was a man of sixty and grey-haired, and his nephew one of thirty to thirty-five and dark-haired, they were very much alikethe same mould of nose, mouth, and chin, the same strength of form. The doctor noted this resemblance particularly, and he involuntarily glanced from the living to the dead.
Barthorpe Herapath bent over his dead uncle for no more than a minute. His face was impassive, almost stern as he turned to the others. He nodded slightly to Mr. Tertius and to Selwood; then he gave his attention to the officials.
Yes? he said inquiringly and yet with a certain tone of command. Now tell me all you know of this.
He stood listening silently, with concentrated attention, as the inspector put him in possession of the facts already known. He made no comment, asked no questions, until the inspector had finished; then he turned to Selwood, almost pointedly ignoring Mr. Tertius.
What is known of this in Portman Square, Mr. Selwood? he inquired. Tell me, briefly.
Selwood, who had only met Barthorpe Herapath once or twice, and who had formed an instinctive and peculiar dislike to him, for which he could not account, accepted the invitation to be brief. In a few words he told exactly what had happened at Jacob Herapaths house.
My cousin is here, then? exclaimed Barthorpe.
Miss Wynne is in the larger waiting-room down the corridor, replied Selwood.
I will go to her in a minute, said Barthorpe. Now, inspector, there are certain things to be done at once. There will, of course, have to be an inquestyour people must give immediate notice to the coroner. Thenthe bodythat must be properly attended tothat, too, you will see about. Before you go away yourself, I want you to join me in collecting all the evidence we can get on the spot. You have one of your detective staff here?good. Now, have you searchedhim?
The inspector drew open a drawer in the front desk which occupied the centre of the room, and pointed to some articles which lay within.
Everything that we found upon him is in there, he answered. You see there is not muchwatch and chain, pocket articles, a purse, some loose money, a pocket-book, a cigar-casethats all. One matter I should have expected to find, we didnt find.
Whats that? asked Barthorpe quickly.
Keys, answered the inspector. We found no keys on himnot even a latch-key. Yet he must have let himself in here, and I understand from the caretaker that he must have unlocked this door after hed entered by the outer one.
Barthorpe made no immediate answer beyond a murmur of perplexity.
Strange, he said after a pause, during which he bent over the open drawer. However, thats one of the things to be gone into. Close that drawer, lock it up, and for the present keep the key yourselfyou and I will examine the contents later. Now for these immediate inquiries. Mr. Selwood, will you please telephone at once to Portman Square and tell Kitteridge to send Mountain, the coachman, hereinstantly. Tell Kitteridge to come with him. Inspector, will you see to this arrangement we spoke of, and also tell the caretaker that we shall want him presently? Now I will go to my cousin.
He strode off, still alert, composed, almost bustling in his demeanour, to the waiting-room in which they had left Peggiea moment later, Selwood, following him down the corridor, saw him enter and close the door. And Selwood cursed himself for a fool for hating to think that these two should be closeted together, for disliking the notion that Barthorpe Herapath was Peggie Wynnes cousinand now, probably, her guardian protector. For during those three weeks in which he had been Jacob Herapaths secretary, Selwood had seen a good deal of his employers niece, and he was already well over the verge of falling in love with her, and was furious with himself for daring to think of a girl who was surely one of the richest heiresses in London. He was angry with himself, too, for disliking Barthorpe, for he was inclined to cultivate common-sense, and common-sense coldly reminded him that he did not know Barthorpe Herapath well enough to either like or dislike him.
Half an hour passedaffairs suggestive of the tragedy of the night went on in the Herapath Estate Office. Two women in the garb of professional nurses came quietly, and passed into the room where Herapath lay dead. A man arrayed in dismal black came after them, summoned by the police who were busy at the telephone as soon as Selwood had finished with it. Selwood himself, having summoned Kitteridge and Mountain, hung about, waiting. He heard the police talking in undertones of clues and theories, and of a coroners inquest, and the like; now and then he looked curiously at Mr. Tertius, who had taken a seat in the hall and was apparently wrapped in meditation. And still Barthorpe Herapath remained closeted with Peggie Wynne.
A taxi drove up and deposited the butler and the coachman at the door. Selwood motioned them inside.
Mr. Barthorpe Herapath wants both of you, he said curtly. I suppose he will ask for you presently.
Kitteridge let out an anxious inquiry.
The master, sir? he exclaimed. Is
Good heavens! muttered Selwood. Iof course, you dont know. Mr. Herapath is dead.
The two servants started and stared at each other. Before either could speak Barthorpe Herapath suddenly emerged from the waiting-room and looked round the hall. He beckoned to the inspector, who was talking in low tones with the detective, at a little distance.
Now, inspector, he said, will you and your officer come in? And the caretakerand you, Kitteridge, and you, Mountain. Mr. Selwood, will you come in, too?