“Well, it would be in keeping with their propaganda. But I’ve always found that those who talk most about blood have never actually seen it run. I shouldn’t have said the Comrades had the guts myself. And they’re such picturesque people too. I don’t see one of them disguising himself as a suitable guest for a country house. Still, one never knows.”
“Quite right, Mr. Cade. One never knows.”
Anthony looked suddenly amused.
“I see the big idea now. Open window, trail of footprints, suspicious stranger at village inn. But I can assure you, my dear superintendent, that, whatever I am, I am not the local agent of the Red Hand.”
Superintendent Battle smiled a little. Then he played his last card.
“Would you have any objection to seeing the body?” he shot out suddenly.
“None whatever,” rejoined Anthony.
Battle took a key from his pocket, and preceding Anthony down the corridor, paused at a door and unlocked it. It was one of the smaller drawing-rooms. The body lay on a table covered with a sheet.
Superintendent Battle waited until Anthony was beside him, and then whisked away the sheet suddenly.
An eager light sprang into his eyes at the half-uttered exclamation and the start of surprise which the other gave.