A policeman stood at the house door to keep off idlers; but Dr. May's character and profession, as well as his municipal rank, caused way to be instantly made for them. They found a superintendent within, and he at once began, 'Most unfortunate business, Mr. Mayor—very mysterious;' then, as a sign from the Doctor made him aware of Henry Ward's near concern, he added, 'Shall I inform young Mr. Axworthy that you are here?'
'Is he come?'
'Yes, sir. He had only slept at the Three Goblets, not half a mile across the fields, you know, Mr. Mayor—came home too late to disturb the house here, slept there, and was on the spot at the first intelligence—before I was myself,' added the superintendent a little jealously.
'Where is he?'
'In his room, sir. He was extremely overcome, and retired to his room as soon as the necessary steps had been taken. Would you wish to see the room, sir? We are keeping it locked till the inquest takes place; but—'
Henry asked, 'When?' his first word since his arrival, and almost inarticulate.
He was answered that it would probably be at two that afternoon; the Whitford coroner had intimated that he was ready, and the down train would be in by one. A telegram had just arrived, reporting that the electric message had anticipated the mail train, and that young Mr. Ward would be brought down in time.
'Never mind, never heed, Henry,' persisted Dr. May, pressing the young man's arm as they proceeded to the door of the sitting-room; 'he must be intensely shocked, but he will explain the whole. Nay, I've no doubt we shall clear him. His rifle, indeed! I could swear to his rifle anywhere.'
The superintendent had by this time opened the door of the sitting-room, communicating on one side with the office, on the other with the old man's bed-room.
Except that the body had been carried to the bed in the inner chamber, all remained as it had been found. There were no signs of robbery—not even of a struggle. The cushions of the easy-chair still bore the impress of the sitter's weight; the footstool was hardly pushed aside; the massive library table was undisturbed; the silver spoons and sugar-tongs beside the tumbler and plate on the supper tray; the yellow light of the lamp still burnt; not a paper was ruffled, not a drawer pulled out. Only a rifle stood leaning against the window shutter, and towards it both friend and brother went at once, hoping and trusting that it would be a stranger to their eyes.