"Naturally, naturally," Sabatini said, tolerantly. "I remember the first man I killed—it was in a fair fight, too, but it sickened me. But what have you been doing, my young friend, to see dead men? Have you, too, been joining the army of plunderers?"
Arnold shook his head.
"I took your sister home," he announced. "We found a light in her sitting-room and the door locked. I got in through the window."
"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared, carefully marking the place in his book and laying it aside. "What did you find there?"
"A dead man," Arnold answered, "a murdered man!"
"You are joking!" Sabatini protested.
"He had been struck on the forehead," Arnold continued, "and dragged half under the couch. Only his arm was visible at first. We had to move the couch to discover him."
"Do you know who he was?" Sabatini asked.
"No one had any idea," Arnold answered. "I think that I was the only one who had ever seen him before. The night I dined at Mr. Weatherley's for the first time and met you, I was with Mrs. Weatherley in her room, and I saw that man steal up to the window as though he were going to break in."
"This is most interesting," Sabatini declared. "Evidently a dangerous customer. But you say that you found him dead. Who killed him?"