He pulled out a notebook from his inside pocket, and, beckoning to his colleague stepped forward into the room.
Doctor Sinclair moved across to where Colin was standing.
"I don't suppose you remember me," he said, "but I called in at St. Christopher's last year in connection with one of your cases." He nodded toward the two detectives, both of whom were kneeling down beside the dead man. "This is a very terrible business," he added. "I was horrified when I heard that it was Professor Carter."
Colin, whose mind was in no state for conversation, made an effort to collect his thoughts.
"Did you know him personally?" he asked.
The surgeon shook his head. "No," he replied. "Like everyone else, I was a great admirer of his work, but I never had the honour of being introduced to him. The police tell me that you were acting as his resident assistant."
"I came here straight from the hospital," said Colin. "I had been with him for nearly a month."
"It seems such a particularly brutal and senseless crime," continued the other, after a short pause. "One would think that even the most callous ruffian would hesitate about striking down an old man of over eighty." He glanced at Colin's dressing gown. "I gather that the murderer broke into the house after you had gone to bed?"
Colin was about to answer when the Inspector got up suddenly and turned toward the door.
"We've seen all we want to for the present, doctor. Perhaps you'll be good enough to have a look at the body now, and let's hear your opinion?"