Dr. Hughes lingered for a last word.
"The undertaker had better be called at once," he said. "It won't do to delay too long."
I knew what he meant. Already the face of the dead man was showing certain ugly discolourations.
"I can send him around on my way home," he added, and I thanked him for assuming this unpleasant duty.
As the door closed behind him, I heard a step on the stair, and turned to see Godfrey calmly descending.
"I came in a few minutes ago," he explained, in answer to my look, "and have been glancing around upstairs. Nothing there. How did our friend Grady get along?"
"Fairly well; but if he guesses anything, his face didn't show it."
"His face never shows anything, because there's nothing to show. He has cultivated that sibylline look until people think he's a wonder. But he's simply a stupid ignoramus."
"Oh, come, Godfrey," I protested, "you're prejudiced. He went right to the point. Do you know Rogers's story?"
"About the woman? Certainly. Rogers told it to me before Grady arrived."