Armadale considered for a moment or two.
“You’re sure you haven’t moved this body in any way?” he demanded.
“I never put a finger on it,” Mold asserted.
“And it’s lying just as it was when you saw it first?” Armadale pursued.
“As near as I can remember,” Mold replied, cautiously. “I didn’t wait long after I saw it. I went off almost at once to ring up the police.”
Armadale seemed to have got all the information he expected. Sir Clinton, seeing that no more questions were to come, turned to the keeper.
“Go off to the house and tell Mr. Cecil Chacewater that his brother’s found and that he’s to come here at once. You needn’t say anything about the matter to any one else. They’ll hear soon enough. And when you’ve done that, ring up the police station and tell them to send up a sergeant and a couple of constables to me here. Hurry, now.”
Mold went without a word. Sir Clinton waited till he was out of earshot and then glanced at Armadale.
“One thing stares you in the face,” the Inspector said in answer to the look. “He wasn’t shot here. That wound would mean any amount of blood; and there’s hardly any blood on the grass.”
Sir Clinton’s face showed his agreement. He looked down at the body.