Mr. Manderton came to an impressive full stop and glanced round his circle of listeners. He gave his explanations easily and fluently, but in a plain, matter-of-fact tone such as a police constable employs in the witness-box. He had marshalled his facts well, and his measured advance towards his dénouement was not without its effect on his audience. Dr. Romain, nursing his knee on a leather settee, Horace Trevert, a tall slim figure eagerly watching the detective from his perch on the arm of the Chesterfield, and Robin and Mary, standing, very close together, behind the empty chair at the desk—each and every one was listening with rapt attention. Inspector Humphries, propping his big bulk uneasily against the wall near the door, was the only one who appeared to be oblivious of the strain.
The detective walked round the desk and seated himself in the chair.
“Mr. Parrish is seated at the desk here,” he resumed, “when his attention is directed to the window.”
And here Mr. Manderton raised his head and looked out towards the frost-strewn gardens.
“Maybe he hears a step, more probably he sees a face staring at him out of the dark. Very much to his surprise he recognizes Jeekes, his principal private secretary—I say to his surprise because he must have believed Jeekes, who had the week-end free, to be in London. And at that, perhaps because he thinks he has made a mistake—in any case to make sure—he gets up....”
The detective suited the action to the word. He pushed back the chair and rose to his feet. They saw he held a large automatic pistol in his hand.
“He has had this threatening letter, remember, so he takes his pistol with him. And he reaches the window ...”
The detective was at the window now, his back to the room.
“He speaks to Jeekes, angrily, maybe—the butler heard the sound of loud voices—they have words. And then ...”
There came a knock at the library door. It was not a loud knock. It was in reality scarcely more than a gentle tap. But it fell upon a silence of Manderton’s own creating, a rapt silence following a pause which preceded the climax of his narrative. So the discreet knocking resounded loud and clear through the library.