“I suppose we can take out the sword before we shift the body?” asked the Inspector. “We want to examine it before any one else touches it.”
“Certainly,” Greenlaw replied. “You can see for yourselves what happened. He was struck from the front by a right-handed man—a fairly heavy blow, I should judge from the depth to which that sword has buried itself. There’s no sign of a twist in the wound, which looks as though he went down under it at once. Quite possibly the base of the skull may have been fractured on the floor by the force of his fall. We’ll see when we come to the P.M. But in any case that wound alone would be quite sufficient to cause almost immediate death. It’s a blade almost as broad as a bayonet, as you can see. I’ll go into the whole thing carefully when I can make a thorough examination. You’ll have him sent down to the mortuary, of course?”
“As soon as we’ve finished our work here.”
“Good. I’ll make a note or two now, if you don’t mind. Then I’ll leave you to get on. As things are, there’s nothing there which you couldn’t see for yourselves.”
He took out a pocket-book and began to jot down his notes.
“Just a moment, doctor,” Sir Clinton interposed. “I’ve got a patient for you here. I’d like you to have a look at his hand and bandage up some cuts before you go.”
Greenlaw nodded in agreement and went on with his note-taking.
“Now, Inspector,” Sir Clinton continued, “we’d better get this sword out. Be sure to take all the care you can not to rub out any finger-prints.”
Armadale obeyed, and after some cautious manœuvres he succeeded in withdrawing the weapon, which he laid carefully on the top of the central show-case.
“Now we can have a look at him,” Sir Clinton said. “You don’t mind our shifting the position of the body, doctor?”