'Yes, my lord, chief constable.'
'Then I shall give myself up to you. I killed the butler.'
'Oh, impossible, my lord!'
'No, it isn't. The beast, as I called him, was getting old, and one morning he forgot to close the door behind him. I followed him stealthily out, and at the head of the stair planted my foot in the small of his back, which sent him headlong. There was an infernal crash. I did not mean to kill the brute, but merely to escape, and just as I was about to run down the stairway, I was appalled to see my father looking like—looking like—well, I won't attempt to say what he looked like; but all my old fear of him returned. As he strode towards me, along the corridor, I was in such terror that I jumped through the secret door and slammed it shut.'
'Where is the secret door?' I asked.
'The secret door is that fireplace. The whole fireplace moves inward if you push aside the carved ornament at the left-hand corner.'
'Is it a dummy fireplace, then?'
'No, you may build a fire in it, and the smoke will escape up the chimney. But I killed the butler, constable, though not intending it, I swear.'
And now the constable shone forth like the real rough diamond he was.
'My lord, we'll say nothing about that. Legally you didn't do it. You see, there's been an inquest on the butler and the jury brought in the verdict, "Death by accident, through stumbling from the top of the stair." You can't go behind a coroner's inquest, my lord.'