"No; I did not."
"They must have been struck to make you enter the room."
"I think so, Mr. Inspector. Agstone wished to be smothered with the smoke. That was why the bronze cup was smoking on the table."
"Where is the bronze cup?" Bruge looked about him.
"I can't say. I last saw it when the lady waved it under my nose."
The Inspector meditated. "It's a queer case altogether," he mused, "and undoubtedly it is connected with the Lanwin murder," he mused again, and then looked up abruptly. "I believe that this second murder will exonerate Miss Chent," he said quietly.
"I hope so," rejoined Shepworth, walking towards the door heavily, and still leaning on Prelice's shoulder. "If she is condemned for murdering her uncle, I should certainly be arrested and tried for murdering Agstone. I had every reason to kill him, since on his evidence hangs the fate of Miss Chent."
"You may as well speak in the past tense, Mr. Shepworth, seeing that the man is dead. For my part, I believe that Agstone murdered his master, and was ready to throw the blame on Miss Chent so as to save his own skin. Only the assassin of Sir Oliver could have been possessed of the knife."
"Am I to consider myself arrested?" demanded the barrister.
"No," rejoined Bruge promptly, and held open the door; "but, of course, we must keep an eye on you," he added, smiling ambiguously.