"
Anderson looked to Beresford for confirmation.
"Is that true?"
"Yes," said Beresford. He started to explain. "I got tired of
waiting and so I--"
The detective broke in curtly.
"All right."
He took a step toward the alcove.
"Now, Doctor." He nodded at the huddle beneath the raincoat.
Beresford followed his glance--and saw the ominous heap for the
first time.
"What's that?" he said tensely. No one answered him. The Doctor
was already on his knees beside the body, drawing the raincoat
gently aside. Beresford stared at the shape thus revealed with
frightened eyes. The color left his face.
"That's not--Dick Fleming--is it?" he said thickly. Anderson
slowly nodded his head. Beresford seemed unable to believe his
eyes.
"If you've looked over the ground," said the Doctor in a low voice
to Anderson, "I'll move the body where we can have a better light."
His right hand fluttered swiftly over Fleming's still, clenched fist
--extracted from it a torn corner of paper....
Still Beresford did not seem to be able to take in what had happened.
He took another step toward the body.
"Do you mean to say that Dick Fleming--" he began. Anderson
silenced him with an uplifted hand.
"What have you got there, Doctor?" he said in a still voice.
The Doctor, still on his knees beside the corpse, lifted his head.
"What do you mean?"
"You took something, just then, out of Fleming's hand," said the
detective.
"I took nothing out of his hand," said the Doctor firmly.
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