“He is,” answered the Doctor. “Men with holes in their heads like this are dead as Pharaoh.”
I ventured to touch the left hand that hung with such dreadful listlessness. “Why, he’s stiff!” I blurted, and a great shudder shook me. “He’s stiff! He must have been dead a long time. But, Doctor, I was talking to him less than five minutes ago!”
“You were!” exclaimed Crofts in an incredulous bull-voice.
“Quite so,” said Aire. “I noticed it the moment I saw the poor fellow.” He, too, touched the left hand. “Stiff, yes, but not cold yet.”
“What’s it all mean?” asked Belvoir.
“He could never be leaning there in that semi-lifelike manner if it weren’t the case,” said Aire. “I observed it, as I said, when I had the first glimpse of him. I have heard of it, but I’ve never seen a case before.”
“A case of what?”
“Instant rigor mortis. It occurs sometimes, under certain conditions, in sudden death.”
Ludlow, who stood near the body on the other side, was regarding it with awe, but his sharp face quickened with discovery. “Have you looked at his other hand? There’s a revolver in it.”
“Then he did fire the shot,” I cried.