“Thanks very much, Mr. Houlder,” replied Whyland. “I think we’ll have a look at him first, if you don’t mind. Will you lead the way?”
They descended to the cellar together, Mr. Houlder leading the way with an electric torch. As they arrived at the passage leading to the small cellar, a constable appeared and saluted.
“Ah, you’re in charge here, I suppose?” said the Inspector. “You haven’t touched anything, I hope?”
“Not since I’ve been here, sir, but I understand that the body was moved accidentally before I came, I’ve got the man who found him here, sir.”
A man, who had been hidden in the gloom behind the policeman, came forward at this. He explained that he was the electrician who had been wiring the cellars. He had very nearly finished the job on the previous Saturday, and had left about noon. The carpenters were still working on the ground floor when he left. He returned just before eight this very morning, found the carpenters already at work, and went down to the cellars to put the finishing touches to the job. The door of the small cellar appeared to be jammed, and he pushed against it to open it. When he had got it open far enough to squeeze through, he found the body of a man lying against it. He had immediately run upstairs and told the foreman, and had waited there till the constable came and asked him to show him the body.
Inspector Whyland dismissed Mr. Houlder and the electricians, and went on into the cellar with the constable. “There’s something queer about this business, sir?” said the latter, as soon as they were alone. “I had a look round while I was waiting for you, and the first thing I saw was one of them white counters, same as the others had. There it lies, sir, I didn’t touch it.”
They were in the cellar by now, and Whyland glanced at the counter, lying in the beam of light which the constable had thrown upon it. “With the figure IV on it, I’ll wager,” he muttered. “Yes, I thought so. We’ll try for finger marks, but I’ll bet it’s no good. Now, let’s have a look at this dead man.”
The constable turned his lamp on the prostrate form, and Whyland knelt down and gazed at it intently. The body was lying doubled up as it had fallen, and was quite cold.
“H’m,” said Whyland, rising to his feet. “We can’t do much more till the doctor comes. You don’t know who he is, I suppose?”
“Mr. Houlder said he believed his name was Martin, sir,” replied the constable cautiously.