“If he did it himself he must have thrown the syringe away,” muttered Whyland. “Waters ought to find it; there isn’t a lot of traffic along here at this time of night. Well, doctor, I don’t think we need keep you out of bed any longer. I’ll have the body taken to the mortuary, and perhaps you’ll ring me up at the station later in the morning?”

The doctor nodded, picked up his bag, which contained the broken needle and the sample of the incrustation, and left the house. When he had gone, Whyland turned once again to Ted.

“Can you suggest any reason why your father should wish to take his life?” he enquired.

“No, Inspector, I can’t,” replied Ted frankly. “The business is doing very well, and father was only saying the other day that we’d got a tidy bit put away in the bank. I keep the books myself, and I know everything’s all right.”