“Call in the police!” said Barton. “They’ll have no difficulty in taking him.”
“This is the man against whom you have the warrant,” he went on, as young Wright opened the door and admitted two policemen. “I charge the Honorable Thomas Cranley with murder!”
The officers lifted the fallen man.
“Let him be,” said Barton. “He has collapsed. Lay him on the floor: he’s better so. He needs a turn of my profession: his heart’s weak. Bring some brandy.”
Young Wright went for the spirits, while the frightened old lawyer kept murmuring:
“The Honorable Thomas Cranley was always very unsatisfactory!”
It had been explained to the old gentleman that an impostor would be unmasked, and a criminal arrested; but he had not been informed that the culprit was the son of his great client, Lord Birkenhead.
Barton picked up the cigarette-case, and as he, for the first time, examined its interior, some broken glass fell out and tinkled on the floor.