"Indeed. I suppose it would be useless for me to ask you to designate some of those less obvious places?"
"Quite useless," answered Creighton truthfully.
He was smiling over that as he excused himself and left the room. He could not have answered the hypothetical question on a bet, for his remark had been a chance shot simply intended to annoy. No one would have been more surprised than himself to learn that this same shot would develop the qualities of a boomerang.
He was stopped in the hall by a pale, gray-haired man whose trembling hands betrayed the strain under which he labored.
"Mr. Creighton, isn't it, sir? Miss Copley told me to fix up some sandwiches and coffee in the butler's pantry. There's so many coming and going through the house she thought it would be quieter there. Mr. Krech is there already, waiting for you, sir."
"Very thoughtful of her. What is your name?"
"Edward Bates, sir. I'm the butler."
"Oh, yes, Miss Copley spoke of you. She tells me you handled things very well this morning after Mr. Varr was found."
"I did what I could, sir. I knew the body mustn't be moved, so I kept the news from Miss Lucy—that's Mrs. Varr, sir—until the police and the doctor got here."
"Knew that, did you? Been with the family long, Bates?"