“Fool that I was,” said Sinclair. “I might have guessed. This was what was contained in that little leather case we found. Reckavile must have carried it about with him for such a crisis as he knew might occur. You know suicide is in the family,” he added in a low voice so that Halley should not hear. “I have seen something like that in India. It was probably some deadly alkaloid. Giles must have got hold of it from Reckavile, and kept it for such a contingency. Still,” he said musingly “perhaps it is for the best. The old man had become a monomaniac brooding over his revenge, and it would have been dreadful to have sent him to the gallows.”
Brown and Andrews carried the body, already stiffening, into the bedroom, and covered it with a sheet.
The rest rose to their feet.
“You will make a full report on this, Andrews,” said Sinclair when the officer returned, “and I will report in London. There is no particular object in making more of a sensation than we are obliged, but the whole thing will have to come out when Lord Reckavile here makes his claim to the title.”
“I will go back to London, sir,” said Fletcher, and his face was white. “I seem to have made a pretty mess of things all round.”
Sinclair laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. “Don’t take this too much to heart, my boy, we all have to learn, and you are young yet. Only I think you owe an apology to Lord Reckavile.”
Fletcher looked with gratitude at his Chief.
“I owe an apology all round, and I tender it now,” he said.
He shook hands with each, and when he came to Ena, he smiled sadly, “I wish you both the greatest happiness.”