The Major looked puzzled. He had not seen the weapon before. I imagine the police had guarded its discovery carefully, and I wondered how Miss Temple came to know of it, in order to notify me.
"It is, as you say, half of an old poker," he replied. "It was used originally in the lower hall, and the lower end was burnt through, owing to its having been carelessly left in the fire one night. I gave it to the gardener. He wanted it to use as a stake in laying out his flower beds, and running the edges of the paths and roads while trimming the turf. He had a long cord, and a wooden stake for the other end. It has been roughly ground to a point, as you see, so that it might be readily thrust into the earth. The last time I saw it, he was using it upon the pathways about the house."
"Then it was not in the green room?" asked the Inspector in an aggrieved tone. He saw that his theory would already require some readjustments.
"Never, to my knowledge," said Major Temple. "There is no fireplace in that room, and it would have been of no use there."
The Inspector closed the drawer with a slam. "Then, if this was the weapon the murderer used," he said, rather lamely, "he must have taken it along with him. Let us have a look at the room."
We all adjourned to the green room, which the detective unlocked, and the Inspector went over the ground, as McQuade and I had done before him, without discovering anything new. The dark-brown spot upon the green carpet, which marked the place where the murdered man's head had rested, was still plainly visible, a grewsome reminder of the terrible tragedy which had been enacted there, but all else seemed ordinary and commonplace enough. The dog seemed strangely oppressed by the surroundings and, after sniffing about nervously with a low whine, crawled under the bed and lay quiet. We spent but a few minutes in the room and were just on the point of leaving, when the maid rushed in and, calling Major Temple aside, addressed a few low words to him, apparently in great agitation, at the same time handing him a sealed envelope. The Major took it from her, passed his hand nervously over his forehead, and turned to us. "Gentlemen," he said, in a frightened sort of a voice, "Miss Temple cannot be found."
We all turned toward him in intense surprise. "What does this mean?" asked the Inspector. "Where is she?"
"She has disappeared," replied the Major, as we hurriedly left the room, McQuade locking the door carefully after him. "Her maid tells me that she has searched everywhere for her, and she cannot be found. This note, addressed to me, was lying upon her writing desk."
"Read it," commanded the Inspector, as we all hastily adjourned to the library.
Major Temple opened the letter with trembling fingers. My own agitation at this new development was equally great.