“Where’s the body?” asked the doctor, in curt businesslike fashion.
Lord Caterham turned to him as though relieved at being asked a direct question.
“In the council chamber—just where it was found—I wouldn’t have it touched. I believed—er—that that was the correct thing to do.”
“Quite right, my lord,” said the inspector approvingly.
He produced a notebook and pencil.
“And who discovered the body? Did you?”
“Good Lord, no,” said Lord Caterham. “You don’t think I usually get up at this unearthly hour in the morning, do you? No, a housemaid found it. She screamed a good deal, I believe. I didn’t hear her myself. Then they came to me about it, and of course I got up and came down—and there it was, you know.”
“You recognized the body as that of one of your guests?”
“That’s right, inspector.”
“By name?”
This perfectly simple question seemed to upset Lord Caterham. He opened his mouth once or twice, and then shut it again. Finally he asked feebly.
“Do you mean—do you mean—what was his name?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Well,” said Lord Caterham, looking slowly round the room, as though hoping to gain inspiration. “His name was—I should say it was—yes, decidedly so—Count Stanislaus.”