"I can say nothing more," Gifford answered.
Henshaw turned away again, and seemed as though but half satisfied.
"The facts," he said in a lawyer-like tone, "don't appear to lead us far. But when ascertained facts stop short they may be supplemented. Apart from what is actually known—I ask this as the dead man's only brother—have either of you gentlemen formed any idea as to how he came by his death?"
He was looking at Morriston, his cross-examining manner now softened by the human touch.
"It has not occurred to me to look beyond what seems the obvious explanation of suicide," Morriston answered frankly.
Henshaw turned to Kelson. "And you, sir; have you any idea beyond the known facts?"
"None," was the answer, "except that he took his own life. The door locked on—"
Henshaw interrupted him sharply. "Now you are getting back to the facts, Captain Kelson. I tell you the idea of my brother Clement taking his own life is to me absolutely inconceivable. Have you any idea, however far-fetched, as to what really may have happened?"
Kelson shook his head. "None. Except I must say he looked to me the last man who would do such an act."
"I should think so," Henshaw returned decidedly. Then he addressed himself to Gifford. "I must ask you, sir, the same question."