I handed him back the telegram, too much shocked for a moment to speak. The whole dreadful tragedy summed up in that curt message rose before me in an instant, and a wave of deep pity swept over me at this miserable end to the sad, empty life.
"What an awful thing, Thorndyke!" I exclaimed at length. "To be killed by a mere grotesque delusion."
"Do you think so?" he asked dryly. "Well, we shall see; but you will come?"
"Yes," I replied; and as he retired, I proceeded hurriedly to finish dressing.
Half an hour later, as we rose from a rapid breakfast, Polton came into the room, carrying a small roll-up case of tools and a bunch of skeleton keys.
"Will you have them in a bag, sir?" he asked.
"No," replied Thorndyke; "in my overcoat pocket. Oh, and here is a note, Polton, which I want you to take round to Scotland Yard. It is to the Assistant Commissioner, and you are to make sure that it is in the right hands before you leave. And here is a telegram to Mr. Brodribb."
He dropped the keys and the tool-case into his pocket, and we went down together to the waiting hansom.
At Weybridge Station we found Mr. Brodribb pacing the platform in a state of extreme dejection. He brightened up somewhat when he saw us, and wrung our hands with emotional heartiness.
"It was very good of you both to come at a moment's notice," he said warmly, "and I feel your kindness very much. You understood, of course, Thorndyke?"