"Yes," said Wimsey.
"Excuse me for a moment," said the Colonel, and went out.
When he returned, he went with Wimsey into the library. Penberthy had finished writing and was reading his statement through.
"Will that do?" he asked.
Wimsey read it, Colonel Marchbanks looking over the pages with him.
"That is quite all right," he said. "Colonel Marchbanks will witness it with me."
This was done. Wimsey gathered the sheets together and put them in his breast-pocket. Then he turned silently to the Colonel, as though passing the word to him.
"Dr. Penberthy," said the old man, "now that that paper is in Lord Peter Wimsey's hands, you understand that he can only take the course of communicating with the police. But as that would cause a great deal of unpleasantness to yourself and to other people, you may wish to take another way out of the situation. As a doctor, you will perhaps prefer to make your own arrangements. If not——"
He drew out from his jacket-pocket the thing which he had fetched.
"If not, I happen to have brought this with me from my private locker. I am placing it here, in the table-drawer, preparatory to taking it down into the country to-morrow. It is loaded."