"And you could have knocked me down with a feather when them two walked in," wailed Mrs. Jabber, who was all rags and tears; "me expecting to be taken to jail straight off, though being, as you may guess, sir, as innocent as new-born infants. Ten o'clock was the hour as me and Jabber went to bed, as I can take my alfred davit in any court of lawr, and never a sound or a whisper did we hear, both being heavy sleepers. And when I come with a duster and a broom into the library, to clean it for the day, there I sees that blessed man lying on the floor under his writing table bleeding like a pig, face downward. As you may think, sir, I went white, and felt my inwards quaking, as I said to Jabber when we took someat strong later to keep our legs from giving way. I hollered and Jabber come to see if I was in a fit. Then says he, 'This is murder,' and runs out to shriek for the perlice, which is here with Dr. Tollart, hardly sober if you can believe me, sir. And that's the Bible truth of the whole thing, as I'd swear on my mother's corpse, though she's been an angel these many years. And what 'ull happen to me and Jabber," ended the good lady, dissolving in many tears, "is more than I can say, having no gift in prophets."
Considering her prolixity, Mrs. Jabber's account was fairly clear, and the chubby policeman was inclined to believe that she spoke the truth. He informed the Squire that he had already sent to Tarhaven for his Inspector, and that Dr. Tollart was examining the body with a view to learning the exact cause of death.
"Though to be sure, sir, that isn't hard to see," said Kensit, who was of a more chatty disposition than his position warranted. "There's a knock on the head as 'ud kill a navvy, much less a delicate gentleman as we know Mr. Leigh always was. He was struck down by a loaded cane or a bludgeon, unexpected like, if my experience goes for anything."
"But who on earth could have murdered him, Kensit?" asked Rupert, greatly puzzled. "Mr. Leigh was such a harmless man and had no enemies."
"P'raps a burglar, sir," suggested the constable wisely.
"But who would commit a burglary here?" said Rupert, looking round the entrance hall where they were standing. "There is nothing to carry off except books, and no man would risk a rope round his neck for such antique rubbish."
"True enough, Mr. Hendle. And, knowing that he had nothing worth stealing, Mr. Leigh never bothered himself to lock up the house at night. There's no catches to speak of on the windows, and the bolts of the doors ain't up to much. Anyone could walk in and walk out at any time without trouble, as he did."
"Oh. Then you think that the assassin was a man?"
"Well, sir, I don't suppose a female would come along assaulting people with blows on the back of the head. To be sure, there's Miss Sophy Tollart, who is a suffragist," mused the constable; "but Mr. Leigh never argued with her over them votes for women as I've ever heard."
In spite of the seriousness of the case, Hendle could not help smiling. "I think we can acquit Miss Tollart, Kensit," he observed. "The militant suffragist destroys property and not human beings. Ah, here is the doctor. Well?"