“Well, Mr. Pyke,” French said, gravely, “I have to inform you that a discovery had been made which may or may not have a bearing on your cousin’s fate. A body has been found—the body of a murdered man. That body has not been identified, but there is a suggestion that it may be your cousin’s. I want to know if you can identify it?”
Mr. Pyke stared incredulously.
“Good Heavens, Inspector! That’s an astonishing suggestion. You must surely be mistaken. I went down to Ashburton directly I heard of the accident, and there seemed no doubt then about what had happened. Tell me the particulars.”
“About a fortnight ago, as you may have noticed in the papers, a crate was picked up in the sea off Burry Port in South Wales, which was found to contain the body of a murdered man. The face had been disfigured and there was no means of identification. However, I traced the crate and I learned that it was sent out from the Veda Works on the morning after your cousin and Mr. Berlyn disappeared.”
“Good Heavens!” Mr. Pyke exclaimed again. “Go on.”
“I made enquiries and the only persons known to have disappeared were those two men. You see the suggestion? I am sorry to have to ask you, but can you help me to identify the remains?”
Mr. Pyke’s face showed both amazement and horror.
“This is terrible news, Inspector. I need hardly say I hope you are mistaken. Of course you may count on me to do all I can.”
“You think you can identify the body, then?”
“Surely I ought to recognise my own cousin?”