Sapcote shook his head decidedly.
“No, sir,” he said without hesitation. “Peter was as sound as a bell, barring these turns of his. I never heard tell of his having anything else wrong with him these last ten years.”
The chief constable nodded, as though the information had satisfied him, but he refrained from comment.
“I think we'd better get him carried into his own bed now,” he suggested with a glance at the body. “After that, we can look round the place and see if there's anything worth noting.”
They carried the remains of Peter Hay into the cottage and laid the body on the bed, which had not been slept in.
“You'd better examine him, inspector,” Sir Clinton suggested.
As the inspector set to work, the chief constable invited his companions to come into the second room of the cottage; and he left the bedroom door open, so that the inspector could hear anything of interest while he made his examination.
To Wendover, the tiny room seemed to offer little of interest. It was obviously kitchen and living-room in one. An oil cooking-stove; a grate; a sink; a dresser; two chairs and a table—these made up the more obvious contents. His eye wandered upwards and was caught by the movement of a tame squirrel in its cage on one of the walls.
“I heard he kept some pets,” he remarked to the constable who had gone across to inspect the squirrel with a rather gloomy expression on his face.
“Yes, sir,” Sapcote answered. “He took a lot of pleasure in the beasts. Some of them are in cages out behind the cottage.”