“Nothing, sir, except the fact that one of his arms was a game one.”
“Meaning that it was—”
“Meaning that it was an artificial one, sir, so far as I can make out.”
“Was it his right or his left arm that was game!” interrupted T. X.
“His left arm, sir.”
“You're sure?”
“I'd swear to it, sir.”
“Very well, go on.”
“He came downstairs and went out and I never saw him again. When you came and the murder was discovered and knowing as I did that I had my own scheme on and that one of your splits might pinch me, I got a bit rattled. I went downstairs to the hall and the first thing I saw lying on the table was a letter. It was addressed to me.”
He paused and T. X. nodded.