"This is the door we found locked on the inside," he observed quietly.
Henshaw gave a keen look round, and nodded. Morriston pushed open the
door and they entered.
The body of Clement Henshaw still lay on the floor in charge of the
detective and the inspector, the third man having been despatched to
the town to make arrangements for its removal. With a nod to the
officials, Henshaw advanced to the body and bent over it. "Poor
Clement!" he murmured.
After a few moments' scrutiny, Henshaw turned to the officers. "I am the
brother of the deceased," he said, addressing more particularly the
detective. "What do you make of this?"
The question was put in the same sharp, business-like tone which had
characterized his utterances in the library.
"Judging by the door being locked on the inside," the detective answered
sympathetically, "it can only be a case of suicide."
Henshaw frowned. "It will take a good deal to persuade me of that," he
retorted. "Mr. ----"
"Detective-Sergeant Finch."
"Mr. Finch. Did the doctor say suicide?"
"I did not hear him express a definite opinion. Did you, inspector?"
"No, Mr.
Pages:
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75