Goodall came up to the desk. “Is this the piece of note-paper, Clegg? Just where you found it?”
“Yes, Inspector!” Bathurst joined the Inspector. The message was there just as it had been written by the dead man. Bathurst let the Inspector read it—then extended his hand for it. “May I see it?”
Goodall passed it over. Anthony produced his magnifying glass and then covered all the writing with another sheet of paper—that is to say, from “urgent” to “M. L.” Then he carefully examined with his glass the part of the paper immediately following the letter “L.” Peter Daventry watched him curiously. After a moment or two he put down the sheet of paper and replaced his magnifying glass. Clegg’s eyelid flickered as he caught a glance from Goodall, but the latter gave no other sign of interest. He clasped his hands behind his back and walked to the bookcase—then suddenly turned on his heel.
“Where’s that revolver you mentioned, Clegg—let’s have a look at it.” The Sergeant took it from the right-hand drawer of the desk.
“This was in Mr. Stewart’s left-hand pocket,” he declared—“and one shot has been fired.” He passed it across to the Inspector. “That’s not to say it was fired at the time of the murder,” rejoined his superior. “All the evidence you’ve collected is absolutely contrary.”
“You mean that nobody admits having heard it?” intervened Anthony.
“I do,” said Goodall.
“With your permission, Inspector—not quite the same thing,” came the reply.
Goodall fingered his cheek. “No sign of the bullet, Mr. Bathurst, if you’re suggesting that a shot was fired in here.”
Clegg smiled broadly. There was no gainsaying the Inspector’s last remark. Anthony shrugged his shoulders good-humoredly and went back to the desk again. Peter noticed that his eyes were sweeping backwards and forwards over that particular part of it directly in front of where Stewart’s head had rested. Suddenly he picked up the ink-bowl and held it up carefully to the light. He swirled the ink round and round in the bowl three or four times and watched its black eddy with the greatest keenness. Apparently what he saw gave him entire satisfaction—which his face showed when he replaced the ink-bowl on the desk. He rubbed the palms of his hands together. “You were quite right, Inspector, regarding your theory of the crime. I hope to put my hand on the——”