“Is that so? And when is the inquest?”
“May be tomorrow, may not be until Monday. We’ve got to arrange for the autopsy and see the coroner.”
“I get you,” said Mr. Fish. “Under the circumstances, though, it will be a melancholy party.”
Battle led the way to the door.
“We’d best get out of here,” he said. “We’re keeping it locked still.”
He waited for the other two to pass through, and then turned the key and removed it.
“I opine,” said Mr. Fish, “that you are seeking for fingerprints?”
“Maybe,” said the superintendent laconically.
“I should say to that, on a night such as last night, an intruder would have left footprints on the hardwood floor.”
“None inside, plenty outside.”
“Mine,” explained Anthony cheerfully.
The innocent eyes of Mr. Fish swept over him.
“Young man,” he said, “you surprise me.”
They turned a corner, and came out into the big wide hall, panelled like the Council Chamber in old oak, and with a wide gallery above it. Two other figures came into sight at the far end.
“Aha!” said Mr. Fish. “Our genial host.”
This was such a ludicrous description of Lord Caterham that Anthony had to turn his head away to conceal a smile.