Something
strange about the former arrested his eye. It was standing awry on its
pedestal--was, indeed, almost toppling over. He looked up and saw that
one of the curtains supported by the arm hung loosely from one of the
curtain rings. It was as though some violent hand had torn at the curtain
in passing, almost dragging it from the pole and precipitating the figure
down the stairs. Immediately beyond the landing, in the corridor, was a
door on the right, flung wide open.
The inspector entered the room with the open door. It was a large room
forming part of the front of the house--a lofty large room, partly
lighted by the half-drawn blind of one of the windows. One side was lined
with bookshelves. In the corner of the room farthest from the door, was a
roll-top desk, which was open. In the centre of the room was a table, and
a huddled up figure was lying beside it, in a dark pool of blood which
had oozed into the carpet.
The inspector stepped quickly back to the landing.
"Flack!" he called, and unconsciously his voice dropped to a sharp
whisper in the presence of death. "Flack, come here."
When Flack reached the door of the library he saw his chief kneeling
beside the prostrate body of a dead man.
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