"And I can give you no more satisfactory answer," Gifford said.
"As a man with knowledge of the world as I take you to be?" Henshaw urged keenly.
"No."
"At least you agree with your friend here, that my poor brother did not strike one as being a man liable to make away with himself?"
"Certainly. But one can never tell. I knew nothing of him or his affairs."
"But I did," Henshaw retorted vehemently. "And I tell you, gentlemen, the thing is utterly impossible. But we shall see. The body—is it here?"
"The police have charge of it in the room where he was found. It is to be removed at nightfall. You will wish to see it?" Morriston answered.
"Yes."
Morriston led the way to the tower, explaining as he went the arrangements on the night of the ball. Henshaw spoke little, his mood seemed dissatisfied and resentful, but his sharp eyes seemed to take everything in. Once he asked, "Did my brother dance much?"
"He was introduced to a partner," Morriston replied. "But after that no one seems to have noticed him in the ball-room."