He then bent over the corpse, while Miss Patterdale walked away to inspect yet another flower-bed, and the constable respectfully watched him. He glanced up after a brief examination, and said: “Nothing for me to do here. Instantaneous, of course. Poor fellow!”
“Yes, sir. How long would you say he's been dead?”
“Impossible to say with any certainty. More than a quarter of an hour, and not more than an hour. We must bear in mind that the body has been all the time in hot sunshine.”
These remarks he repeated five minutes later, when a police-car set down at Fox House Detective-Sergeant Carsethorn, accompanied by a uniformed constable, and two men in plain clothes. The Sergeant asked him whether there was anything else he could tell them about the murder, adding, but without malice, that Dr. Rotherhope, who, besides constituting Dr. Warcop's chief rival in Bellingham was also the police-surgeon, had been called out to a confinement, and was thus not immediately available.
Beyond informing the Sergeant that the bullet had entered the skull through the temporal bone, and would be found lodged in the brain, Dr. Warcop had nothing more to tell him. It was the Sergeant himself who observed that the shot had not been fired at very close quarters, no powder-burns being discernible.
By this time Charles had rejoined the group on the lawn. When he saw the Sergeant he was surprised, and said: “Hallo! You're not the chap who dealt with that pilfering we had at the office. What's become of him?”
“Detective-Inspector Thropton, sir. He's away, sick.”
“He will be fed-up!” remarked Charles. “Mama says I'm to bring Mavis home with me, Aunt Miriam, for the night.”
“I shall be requiring to ask Miss Warrenby a few questions, sir, before she leaves the house.”
“She isn't here: she's at my house,” said Miss Patterdale. “She came running to me for help, and I left her there, in charge of my niece. Can you interview her there?”