But before I did any of these things I tiptoed to the mirror over the mantelpiece in order to see whether I bled.
I did not. My left eye was of a dull red, but not with blood, and I could deal with that. As a preparation for dealing with it I emptied at a draught the brandy flask he had prepared for his journey on the morrow.
Softly as a cat I continued to move about.
Then I had to remember which of his stairs creaked to the tread. They were the fourth and the tenth from the first landing; I knew that as well as I knew my own name; and yet for a time I really could not remember the numbers.
The room was quiet as a grave as I gave a final glance round at the displayed Evidence....
Then behind his Queen Anne grate a cricket began to sing.
Nobody saw me leave the house. I had to bring his latchkey away. Without it the latch would have clicked as I closed the door from the outside.
Then I crossed Mecklenburgh Square and walked towards King's Cross.
A quarter of an hour later an apparently very drunken man of uncommon stature lurched heavily through the swing doors of my public-house and fell full length on the floor in the middle of a knot of drinkers. A barman dived quickly under the flap of the counter, with an "Outside!" rushed towards me. I was hauled to my feet. I had a hand over one eye.
"'E's copped the brewer all right!" a cheerful voice sounded in my ear. "Just smell 'im! Must ha' been drinking it straight out o' the cask."