`Did his manner seem strange?'
A slight pause before the answer. `I am afraid so, sir. Mr Bitton has not been exactly himself for the past month. But there was nothing… well, sir, excited about him.'
Hadley glanced down at the floor. The carpet was of so thick and smooth a nap that it was almost possible to trace the path a man had taken, as though by footprints. They were standing near the door, and as Rampole followed the chief inspector's glance he could see with terrible clarity what Lester Bitton must have done. For Lester Bitton was a heavy and gigantic man; his footfalls were there where a lighter person's might not have been visible. First he had gone to the fireplace. Then he had walked to the reading-table facing the fireplace, the open drawer telling where the gun had come from. From there he had gone to the bureau, whose mirror was now tilted so that a tall man could look at himself clearly. The impress of his feet, together, — was heavy there; he must have stood for some time. Lastly he had walked straight to the bed, stood with his back to it so that he should fall there, and raised the automatic.
`The gun is his own'?' Hadley asked.
`Yes, sir. He kept it in that table drawer.'
Softly Hadley punched his fist into his palm, softly and steadily as lie looked about.
`I want you to give me a complete account of everything Mr Bitton did to-day, so far as you know.'
Hobbes's hands plucked at the sides of his trousers.
`Yes, sir. I observed him, sir, because I was a trifle concerned about his welfare. He left the house this morning at about half past ten, sir, and returned at noon. I believe he had been to Mr Philip`s flat'
`Was he carrying anything when he returned?'