Father Cleary had been stabbed twice in the breast, nearly in a line with his heart, and his garments and the rug on which he was lying were saturated with blood, then dark and congealed.
Nick Carter saw at a glance that the priest had been dead for several hours.
“The scene is suggestive, Fallon; very suggestive,” he said, after a few moments. “We will proceed deliberately, however, since nothing can be done for this man. It’s a case of murder, pure and simple, if that can be. Let Grady wait in the hall. I will study the evidence in detail.”
Fallon nodded and glanced significantly at the policeman.
Nick crossed the room and raised the window curtain. In the brighter light that entered, the scene was even more vividly tragic and gruesome.
“No weapon is here,” said he, with searching gaze while he crouched to examine the corpse. “The assassin took[{7}] care not to leave it. It evidently was a dagger, or a knife with a broad blade. Note the two gashes in the garments. Either thrust would have been fatal. This man has been dead since last evening, probably as early as nine o’clock.”
Nick had lifted one stiffened arm while speaking and dropped it to the floor.
“Surely,” Fallon said simply.
“Here are stains of ink on his middle finger. He evidently was writing when——”
Nick did not finish the remark. He arose and turned to the open desk, then approached it. A sheet of paper was lying on it, also a pen that evidently had been abruptly dropped.