`Chief Inspector Hadley, sir?' the old man asked. `I am Hobbes, sir; I telephoned you. Shall I take you upstairs?' He hesitated as Hadley nodded. `Under such circumstances, sir, I have always heard that it is customary to summon a doctor. But Mr Bitton was obviously dead, and unless you wish it..
`It will not be necessary for the moment. Is Sir William up yet?'
'I have not been able to rouse him, sir.'
`Where is Mrs Bitton?'
`In her room, sir. This way, if you please.'
The butler took them up a heavily carpeted stair, with bronze figures in the niches, and along a passage at the top. It was stuffy up here; and Rampole could distinctly smell the stale reek of cordite.
A bright light streamed out against the gloom of this upper hall At the door Hobbes stood aside for them to enter.
Here the odour of burnt powder: was stronger, but nothing seemed disturbed. It was a high room, with cornices and another long chandelier, severely furnished against a background of dull brown and yellow-threaded walls.
Lester Bitton lay sideways across the bed; they could see his feet from the door. Closer, they could see that he was fully dressed. The bullet had gone through the right temple and emerged about an inch above the left ear; following Hadley's glance, Rampole could discern the splintered place where it had lodged in the ceiling. The dead man's face was curiously peaceful, and there was very little blood. His outflung right hand, turned under at the wrist, held a Webley-Scott service automatic of the standard forty-five calibre army pattern.
Hadley did not immediately examine him. He spoke in a low voice to Hobbes.