The three visitors turned to find a tall, slenderly erect man in dinner clothes regarding them with gravely inquiring eyes. He must have been well over fifty, but the lines in his strikingly distinguished face were those of strength, not age, his dark hair was only lightly powdered with gray at the temples and he bore himself with the air of a man at the apex of his prime.
As he advanced into the room the inspector stepped forward to meet him.
“Sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Orbit, but we will only detain you for a few minutes. I am Inspector Druet from Police Headquarters and these are two of my assistants. We want a little information about a certain man who carries a tag with this house address on his key-ring.”
Henry Orbit nodded slowly and the concern deepened upon his face as he waved them back to their chairs and seated himself in a highbacked one facing them.
“I know of no one who carries such a tag except my valet, Hughes. Is he in any trouble? Ching Lee tells me that, from your description, the man about whom you are inquiring is undoubtedly Hughes.”
“You don’t seem surprised,” the inspector observed bluntly. “Has this valet of yours been in trouble before?”
A shadow of regret more than annoyance crossed the face of their host and he shook his head.
“He has gotten into more than one scrape, although nothing, to my knowledge, of course, that would engage the attention of the police. I am afraid he is rather a scoundrel, but he has been with me for twenty-two years and I cannot believe him utterly reprehensible. Has he suggested to you that I would help him now?”
“The man I’m asking about is beyond any one’s help,” responded the official. “He is dead.”
“Dead!” the other repeated in a low, shocked tone, after a moment’s pause. “It seems incredible! Only a few hours ago I gave him permission to go out! What happened? Did some accident occur?”