“Perhaps an expert can tear it to pieces,” broke in Mitchell. “But you can’t get over the fact that no weapon was found near the body. If John Meredith killed himself, what did he do with the weapon?”
“I can tell you.” A new light shone in Anne’s eyes and her voice held an unaccustomed ring, a note of hope, mixed with relief. “I read your testimony in the morning paper, Doctor Curtis, as given at the inquest. You said that Uncle John lay partly on his right side, his hands outflung, and his head resting against the banisters which circle this part of the corridor.”
As she spoke she left the head of the stairs and walked to the spot where Meredith’s body had lain, the others trooping after her.
“Suppose,” she began, addressing Inspector Mitchell who was watching her with eager attention, “suppose Uncle John carried the weapon—shall we say a knife,” her voice faltered, then recovering herself, she spoke with more composure, “carried the knife down this corridor with him, what could have become of it?”
“Blessed if I know,” muttered Mitchell. “We have searched every available spot. There are no cracks and crannies or corners in this corridor which we have overlooked, and have found absolutely no trace of a weapon of any kind. Come, Miss Meredith, did some one,” his voice grew harsh, “carry away the weapon before we got here?”
“No.”
Mitchell turned an angry red as he faced her. He was sensitive to ridicule, and the conviction was growing upon him that Anne was poking fun at him.
“Quit kidding us!” he exclaimed, roughly. “And answer your own question, if you can. If Meredith did carry a weapon in his hand, what became of it?”
“The most natural thing in the world happened to it,” she replied, and this time her note of triumph was plainly discernible in her voice. “As Uncle John fell forward, the knife could have slipped from his outflung hand and fallen through the banisters to the hall beneath. Look—” and she leaned far over the railing.
With one accord the men with her followed her example, even Curtis, in the excitement of the moment, forgetting his blindness as he bent forward and hung over the railing.