As he dragged out the last word another paroxysm of coughing overtook him. It lasted for several seconds, and then, with a queer, fluttering movement of the eyelids, his head suddenly lolled over sideways on to his shoulder, the under jaw dropping open at the same time.
Colin lowered his burden to the ground, and after wiping his hands on the grass, rose to his feet.
For a moment the Inspector stood still, gazing down at the body.
"Well, that's done the hangman out of a job," he observed regretfully. "What's more, I believe the devil was right. We shall only be able to charge Medwin with conspiracy, though if any man ever deserved—— Hullo! here's somebody coming!"
He broke off abruptly at the sight of a dark figure, which was approaching along the roadway from the direction in which they had been travelling.
"One of the men from the powder works, I expect," said Colin. "We're quite close by, and they probably heard the crash."
Marsden stepped forward to meet the new arrival, who had turned on to the grass and was hurrying rapidly toward them. As he drew nearer they saw that he was a respectable-looking middle-aged man, dressed in a rough suit of tweeds.
He came on at a kind of stumbling run, and pulled up with an exclamation of horror as the full extent of the disaster suddenly met his eyes.
"Good God!" he exclaimed. "I was afraid there had been a bad accident. Is anybody killed?"
"Yes," said Marsden bluntly. "Both these men are dead." He paused. "Who are you, sir, and where do you come from?" he asked.