‘He has had a shock,’ answered the Chief, explaining in a few words what had occurred.
‘He’ll have to be removed to hospital at once. Better get a stretcher.’
The sergeant disappeared again and in a few seconds returned with the apparatus and another man. Felix was lifted on to it and borne off.
‘Doctor,’ said the Chief, as the former was about to follow, ‘as soon as you are through with him I wish you’ld make an examination of the woman’s body. It seems fairly clear what happened to her, but it would be better to have a post-mortem. Poison may have been used also. Burnley, here, is going to Paris by the nine o’clock in the morning to make inquiries, and he will want a copy of your report with him.’
‘I shall have it ready,’ said the doctor as, with a bow, he hurried after his patient.
‘Now, let’s have a look at that letter.’
They returned to the courtyard and Burnley unpinned the envelope from the dead woman’s gown. It was unaddressed, but the Chief slit it open and drew out a sheet of folded paper. It bore a single line of typing:—
‘Your £50 loan returned herewith with £2 10s. 0d. interest.’
That was all. No date, address, salutation, or signature. Nothing to indicate who had sent it, or whose was the body that had accompanied it.
‘Allow me, sir,’ said Burnley.