“ Mr. Cavendish, I should like your consent to a postmortem.”
“Is that necessary?” asked John gravely. A spasm of pain crossed his face.
“Absolutely,” said Dr. Bauerstein.
“You mean by that—?”
“That neither Dr. Wilkins nor myself could give a death certificate under the circumstances.”
John bent his head.
“In that case, I have no alternative but to agree.”
“Thank you,” said Dr. Wilkins briskly. “We propose that it should take place tomorrow night—or rather tonight.” And he glanced at the daylight. “Under the circumstances, I am afraid an inquest can hardly be avoided—these formalities are necessary, but I beg that you won’t distress yourselves.”
There was a pause, and then Dr. Bauerstein drew two keys from his pocket, and handed them to John.
“These are the keys of the two rooms. I have locked them and, in my opinion, they would be better kept locked for the present.”
The doctors then departed.
I had been turning over an idea in my head, and I felt that the moment had now come to broach it. Yet I was a little chary of doing so. John, I knew, had a horror of any kind of publicity, and was an easygoing optimist, who preferred never to meet trouble halfway. It might be difficult to convince him of the soundness of my plan. Lawrence, on the other hand, being less conventional, and having more imagination, I felt