“The head of Sir Anthony Gyde, sir, I believe,” replied the officer. Freyberger was taking off his overcoat; he paused with it half off.
“The head of Sir Anthony Gyde?”
“The butler, Raymond, says he can identify it,” replied Jenkins. “It was found in a cupboard in the bedroom. I came directly from Vine Street when the message arrived. They had not disturbed it, nor have I; just left it exactly as we found it.”
“That’s perfectly right; come with me.”
They went upstairs.
A tall, narrow cupboard in the bedroom wall stood open; on one of the shelves reposed the head of a bearded man. The skin of the face was strangely brown and withered, the upper lip was drawn up as if in some contortion of pain, exposing the teeth; one of these teeth was gold crowned.
The thing was sufficiently frightful, but Freyberger took it down and handled it as indifferently as though it had been a cabbage.
It was in this room that Leloir, on the night before, had died of terror.
What had he seen, and how much had this head to do with the sight?
Freyberger wrapped a towel round the thing and gave it to the plain-clothes officer to make a parcel of and remove to Vine Street. Then he went down to interrogate Raymond.