Arnesson turned to the older man curiously.
“What impulse, sir, directed you to do that?”
“Impulse? My dear Sigurd, I didn’t analyze my emotions. But it struck me that the bow was a vital piece of evidence, and I placed it in the basement as a precautionary measure until the police arrived.”
Arnesson made a wry face and cocked one eye humorously.
“That sounds like what our psychoanalytic friends would call a suppression-censor explanation. I wonder what submerged idea was actually in your mind. . . .”
There was a knock at the door, and Burke put his head inside.
“Doc Doremus is waiting for you down-stairs, Chief. He’s finished his examination.”
Markham rose and excused himself.
“I sha’n’t bother you people any more just at present. There’s considerable preliminary routine work to be done. But I must ask you to remain up-stairs for the time being. I’ll see you again before I go.”
Doremus was teetering impatiently on his toes when we joined him in the drawing-room.