"Judging by the door being locked on the inside," the detective answered sympathetically, "it can only be a case of suicide."
Henshaw frowned. "It will take a good deal to persuade me of that," he retorted. "Mr. ——"
"Detective-Sergeant Finch."
"Mr. Finch. Did the doctor say suicide?"
"I did not hear him express a definite opinion. Did you, inspector?"
"No, Mr. Finch. I rather presumed the doctor took it for granted."
"Took it for granted!" Henshaw echoed contemptuously. "I'm not going to take it for granted, I can tell you. Did the doctor examine the body?"
"He made a cursory examination. He is arranging to meet the police surgeon for an autopsy to-morrow morning."
On the table lay a narrow-bladed chisel, the lower portion of the bright steel discoloured with the dark stain of blood.
The inspector pointed to it.