“Now,” said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended the company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, “if Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the crime in the light of the evidence we have collected.”
He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley Parrish’s empty chair.
“It is just on five o’clock on Saturday evening, November 27,” he began, “and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here”—he tapped the chair—“with all the lights in the room turned off except this one on the desk.”
Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp.
“The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway’s in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr. Parrish’s secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway’s or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no business papers of this description, with the exception of one, which I am coming to directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish’s death. Nor were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire. These two facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries.”
At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his face.
“What Mr. Archer did leave with Mr. Parrish, however,” Mr. Manderton resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the “did,” “was his will and this letter ...”—he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue paper—“which, a straightforward business communication in appearance, was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have nothing to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed.”
Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.
“The fire in this room,” he said, turning and facing his audience, “was smoking. The butler will testify to this and state that Mr. Parrish complained about it to him with the result that the sweep was ordered for Monday morning. Owing to the smoke in the room Mr. Parrish opened the window. His finger-prints were on the inside of the window-frame and a small fragment of white paint was still adhering to one of his finger-nails.
“The window, then, was open as it is now. Mr. Parrish sat at his desk, read through his will, and wrote a letter to Miss Trevert informing her that, under the will, she was left sole legatee. This letter, with the will, was found on the desk after Mr. Parrish’s death. Presumably in view of the threat against his life contained in this letter,”—the detective held up the slatey-blue paper,—“Mr. Parrish had either in his pocket or, as I am more inclined to think, lying on the desk in front of him, his Browning automatic pistol. This pistol was fitted with a Maxim silencer, an invention for suppressing the report of a firearm, which was sent to Mr. Parrish by a friend in America some years ago and which he kept permanently attached to the weapon.”