“Could you describe it?”
“No, but I could sketch it.” He seized a piece of paper and drew a rough triangle.
French laid his photograph beside the sketch. There could be no doubt that they represented the same object. Pyke seized the photograph.
“That’s it. I could swear to it anywhere. You’ve found Stanley’s body right enough. Good Heavens! Inspector, it’s incredible! I could have sworn he hadn’t an enemy in the world. Have you any clue to the murderer?”
Natural caution and official training made French hedge.
“Not as yet,” he answered, assuring himself that his ideas about Berlyn were hypothetical. “I was hoping that you could give me a lead.”
“I?” Jefferson Pyke shook his head. “Far from it. Even now I can scarcely credit the affair.”
“Well, I should like you to run over his associates and see if you can’t think of any who might have hated him. Now to start with the senior partner: What about Colonel Domlio?”
Mr. Pyke had never met him and knew nothing about him, though he had heard his cousin mention his name. French went on through the list he had made at Ashburton till in the natural sequence he came to Berlyn.
“Now Mr. Berlyn. Could he have had a down on your cousin?”