"How did it happen?"
"He was killed with this."
He picked up from the floor what looked like a lacquered Oriental club; there was something gleaming on the end of it.
"Could it have been that I heard?"
"Who can say?"
"Was he like that when you came in?"
"He was lying a little more over on his face; I turned him over to see if there were any signs of life left in him."
"You are sure--that no one else--was in the room?"
For some reason there was a perceptible interval before he answered; they looked at each other, as if each were reading something which was in the other's eyes; then his glance dropped, and he said:
"There was no one else in the room when I came in."