“Will you leave me?” he asked. “I wish to be alone.”
His eyes were like the eyes of a blind man.
One by one they left the room, Inspector Jacks amongst them. The only person who spoke, even in the hall, was the Inspector.
“It was the Prince who brought the doctor here,” he muttered. “He must have known! At least he must have known!”
Mr. Haviland touched him on the arm.
“Inspector Jacks!” he whispered.
Inspector Jacks saluted.
“The murderer is dead,” he continued, speaking still under his breath. “Silence is a wonderful gift, Mr. Jacks. Sometimes its reward is greater even than the reward of action.”
They passed from the house, and once more its air of deep silence was unbroken. The Prince stood in the middle of that strange room, whose furnishings and atmosphere seemed, indeed, so marvellously reminiscent of some far distant land. He looked down upon the now lifeless figure, raised the still, white fingers in his for a moment, and laid them reverently down. Then his head went upward, and his eyes seemed to be seeking the heavens.
“So do the great die,” he murmured. “Already the Gods of our fathers are calling you Soto the Faithful. Banzai!”