“One minute, Mr. Stewart. Was it your father’s habit to carry firearms in the pocket of his dressing-gown? Have you ever known him to do it? Think carefully—this is most important.”
“Well, of course, naturally, I don’t sleep with my father—I rarely see him after he has retired for the night—but I certainly wasn’t aware that he made a habit of carrying a revolver. It doesn’t surprise me, though, to know that he had a revolver pretty handy, because we house a number of very valuable things here—still—I’ll say this—I’ve never seen him with a revolver in his hand.”
Anthony accepted the statement—then followed up with another question. “Your father was a right-handed man, of course, Mr. Stewart?”
“Yes. Always. Doctor Gunner gave it as his opinion that he had been dead about twelve hours. That wasn’t quite possible, as he was alive at ten o’clock last night.”
“Who saw him?”
Stewart hesitated for a moment. “Two of us here can prove that my father was alive round about ten o’clock last night. I spoke to him about a quarter to ten, and Butterworth, the butler, spoke to him a few minutes after ten. My father gave Butterworth instructions to lock up about that time.” Bathurst nodded.
“I see. So Butterworth was the last person to see your father alive—as far as is known?”
“Yes. A Colonel Leach-Fletcher dined here with my father last night. Butterworth saw him out about ten. When I spoke to my father at nine-forty-five the Colonel was with him then, in the library.”
“An old friend of your father’s, I presume—I understand from Mr. Daventry here that it was on Colonel Leach-Fletcher’s recommendation that your father got into touch with his firm?”
“I believe that is so, Mr. Bathurst—but I should hesitate before I described the Colonel as an old friend of my father’s—his friendship only dates back to the time when we first came here.”