“Ronuk floor polish.”
“By Moses!” cried Baddeley, “then it was Ronuk.”
Marshall looked the picture of amazement. She had been led to the brink of a morass and even yet failed to realize her imminent danger.
“You wear gloves for polishing floors?” Anthony’s tone grew sharper.
“I use a cloth ... and wear gloves when I’m using it ...” Marshall replied with a suspicion of sullenness.
“Then why”—cried Anthony,—“when you entered the billiard room and saw Prescott’s body on the billiard-table—why did you rush straight to the window, fling it open—and lean out over the window-sill?”
For the space of a few seconds Marshall stared at him in astonishment. Then she swayed slightly and fell into a dead faint on the library floor.
CHAPTER VIII
MR. BATHURST HAS A MEMORY FOR FACES
Baddeley and Roper sprang to her assistance. The rest of us looked at Anthony with bewilderment.
“An elementary piece of reasoning,” he said, apologetically. “In fact, upon reflection, Inspector Baddeley takes more honors than I.”