The placidity of the old man remained undisturbed.
Meanwhile the young detective called Sweetwater had returned with the typewriter in his arms. Setting it down on the library table, towards which they all immediately moved, he composedly strolled my way. We were now grouped as follows: the family and some others in the library, Sweetwater and myself at the front door.
Naturally, from the point I have just indicated, I could not look into the library; but my hearing being good and that of the young detective still better, we both managed to get the drift of what was being said, though we could not note the speakers.
I had seen a slip of paper protruding from the machine when it was carried past me, and it was to this piece of paper Mr. Gryce first called Miss Meredith's attention.
"There's an unfinished letter here, as you see. Did you have a hand in writing it?"
She did not answer very promptly, but when she did, it was with a "No" which was startlingly abrupt.
"Ah! then there's someone else in the house who uses the typewriter."
"Mr. Gillespie. He often used it when he was in a hurry and I not by."