"The doctors are agreed that the blow was struck with a thin, sharp instrument, probably a knife. You'll see the position of the wound. There was scarcely any external bleeding, but death, I'm informed, must have followed within a very few minutes."
"I see, sir. Weapon not found?"
"Not so far. But to my mind it hasn't been looked for," said the Major, casting a severe glance towards Inspector Colwall.
The Inspector reddened "It was looked for in the deceased's room, sir, but you know as well as I do that it's a very big house, and what with that, and the number of people all staying there, with their baggage - well, it's a tall order to find the weapon, and I didn't like to turn the place upside-down."
The Major looked unconvinced, but Hemingway said: "No, you'd have been at it all night and half today, I daresay."
"Well, that's where it is," said Colwall gratefully.
"I don't know that the weapon's going to interest me much," pursued Hemingway. "What with all these thrillers that get written nowadays by people who ought to know better than to go putting ideas into criminals' heads, there's no chance of any murderer forgetting to wipe off his finger-prints. Sickening, I call it. Now, how do you figure the murderer got into that room, Inspector?"
Colwall shook his head. "It's got me beat. If there wasn't any hanky-panky with the key - and that's an expert's job, when you come to think of it - I don't see how anyone could have got in."
"No; but there's one piece of evidence we mustn't forget," interposed the Chief Constable. "Stephen Herriard's cigarette-case was found lying on the floor by the fire, half-hidden by an armchair."
"That doesn't look so good for Stephen Herriard," said Hemingway. "Does he own it?"