The eyes of Mr. Finchampstead goggled. His large jaw fell.
“Good Gad, you don’t doubt he’s dead?” Lomas cried.
“Oh, he’ll be dead all right. I want to know how he died.”
“Are you serious?” Finchampstead mourned. “Really, Fortune, this is not a matter for frivolity. The poor fellow was found dead with one side of his head beaten in. There can be no dispute how he died. I presume you have taken the trouble to read the medical evidence.”
“I have. That’s what worries me. I’ve seen the doctors you called. Dear old things.”
“Very sound men. And of the highest standing,” Finchampstead rebuked him.
“As you say. They know a fractured skull when they see it. They would see everything they looked for. But they didn’t look for what they didn’t see.”
“May I ask what you mean?”
“Any other cause of death.”
“The cause was perfectly plain. There was nothing else to look for.”