At the sight of that hideous injury, all Colin's professional training instinctively asserted itself. Letting go the switch, he sprang forward, and, heedless of the blood and broken glass, dropped down on one knee beside the prostrate body.
It needed no medical knowledge to see that the case was hopeless. A terrific blow from some blunt instrument had smashed the whole front of the skull, and portions of the crushed and bleeding brain were even now protruding from the wound. Death must have come with merciful abruptness—a sudden and utter annihilation of every sense and feeling.
Almost dazed by the blast of fury that swept through him, Colin stumbled to his feet. He glanced wildly round the room, and the broken French window, one half of which was standing open, immediately caught his eye. Since the door had been locked from inside, it was the only way by which the murderer could have escaped. He had evidently darted through into the garden with the intention of climbing the wall, and, moved by a desperate hope, Colin stepped across the dead body and ran out on to the lawn. A flood of moonlight, streaming in through the bare trees, lit up the whole desolate expanse of grass and shrubs. Everything was perfectly still, and, except for the faint rumbling of a cart in the distance, the entire neighbourhood seemed to be plunged in absolute silence.
He was listening intently, with his eyes on the black line of bushes opposite, when a slight noise in the room behind attracted his attention. He turned round instantly, and through the window he caught sight of the panic-stricken figure of Mrs. Ramsay peering in at the open doorway.
As he moved forward into the light she uttered a stifled scream.
"Don't be frightened," he said quickly. "It's I—Doctor Gray."
Clutching at her dressing-gown with one hand, she pointed a trembling finger toward the body.
"Oh, my Gawd, sir," she gasped, "what is it? What's been happening?"
Colin stood in the window, his face white and set.
"The Professor has been murdered," he said.