“It does indeed,” the inspector agreed, and his tone was one of profound regret. Roger gathered that the inspector was feeling balked.
Together they gazed at the occupant of the chair.
“Well, what’s the next move?” Roger asked, after a full minute’s silence.
The inspector seemed to recall himself with an effort from some meditation of his own. “The next move?” he repeated vaguely. “Well, we shall have to get a doctor in at once, of course. And as you’re here, sir,” he went on in brisker tones, “I wish you’d be good enough to get him for me, will you? By rights I ought to stay here and see that nothing’s disturbed and the body left untouched; and I shall want a word with the landlady too.”
“Of course I will,” Roger assented at once. “Any particular doctor?”
“Well, there probably won’t be more than one in a place this size. The landlady can tell us his name and address. It’s early yet, so you ought to be able to catch him before he goes out. And on your way back you might see if you can get hold of the local constable (he lives quite near here, I know) and send him along too. I don’t want to let the body out of my sight for more than a second at a time till he comes, and that’ll leave me a bit freer.”
“Yes, rather,” Roger said, opening the door, “I’ll go at once.”
They made their way out into the passage and the inspector sent a stentorian voice flying upstairs in search of the landlady. She appeared at the top of the stairs, wiping her hands on a floor-cloth.
“Mr. Meadows is ill,” said the inspector abruptly. “What’s the name and address of the nearest doctor?”
“Ill, is he?” said the stout landlady, much concerned. “Well, that’s funny. Poor gentleman! He seemed quite all right when I took his breakfast in to him. Not serious, I do hope? ‘Good-morning, Mrs. Harper,’ he said, just the same as usual. ‘What’ve you got for breakfast to-day?’ he said. And I⸺”