"Had you an appointment with this gentleman?" he asked in a low voice.
"Yes, I had," I answered. "An appointment on a matter of business. I was coming to the house, when I saw you and the other man on your way here. May I ask who you are?" For I thought it better to pretend ignorance, although I knew well that these must be the men for whom Uncle Zabdiel had sent.
"We are police officers," said the man, "and we had an appointment with Mr. Blowfield for this evening. It seems a pity that we were not a little earlier," he added.
"You might have been useful," I added drily. "What should Mr. Blowfield want with you?"
The man looked at me suspiciously, but did not answer. He turned to look at the dead man with a thoughtful frown on his face. "This is the sort of case that absolutely invites murder, in a manner of speaking," he said. "A lonely old man—probably without a soul in the house—pretty well off, I expect; that sort of thing soon gets spread about among the sort of people to whom it's of interest. Of course, I couldn't say off-hand; but I should judge that robbery was the business here, and that whoever did it has had to make a mighty quick exit, or they would scarcely have left the door as we found it. It's been a touch-and-go business, and, as I say, if we had been a little earlier the old gentleman might have been alive to tell us what he wanted to tell us."
Now, although I had been resolute in my determination to end the matter, and to go back to my prison, I found myself thanking my stars that the old gentleman had not been alive to say what he had to say. Not that I should ever have found it in my heart to do him an injury on my own account, and, indeed, I was a little horrified to find him done to death in this fashion; but you must understand how great a relief it was for me.
By this time the second man had come back, bringing with him a young doctor. The latter glanced quickly from one to the other of us, and then knelt down on the stairs to make his examination. The first police officer stood near to him, holding the lamp; I, with the other man, stood below. In a moment or two the doctor looked up, with pursed lips, and nodded quickly to the man with the lamp.
"Nothing for me to do here," he said quietly. "He's been dead about half an hour—scarcely more, I should think. A weak old man like this wouldn't stand much chance when he came face to face with a strong man armed with that stick. He's had two blows—one clean in front, and the other at the side. He must have died almost on the instant. Anyone suspected?"
The man with the lamp shook his head. "We've only arrived here a matter of minutes ago," he replied, "having been asked by the old gentleman to call here to-night."
"What for?" The doctor, who had risen to his feet, asked the question sharply.