“Found the revolver?”
“No, sir.”
“Not searched yet, I suppose?”
“No, sir. I waited until you came, to hear your instructions.”
“Quite right. You’d better move him down to the village, and when it’s light we’ll search all around.” Then, turning to Richards, he added, “There’ll have to be an inquest, doctor. Shall we fix it for the day after to-morrow, at the Spread Eagle at Midhurst? Will that suit you?”
“Yes. I can make the post-mortem to-morrow,” Richards said, and thus it was arranged.
“It’s a mystery—murder without a doubt,” declared the superintendent a few minutes later, while chatting with the doctor. “How long has he been dead, do you think?”
“Eight or nine hours,” I should say.
“Then it was done about dusk, you think?”
“Most probably.”