"Don't think. Shut the door. Post your Sergeant inside. No one is to
go out. Grab anybody who comes in. Where's the body?"

"This way," said Inspector Whiteleaf hurriedly; then, over his
shoulder: "Go down to the door, Burton."

He led Kerry towards the inner room, Coombes at his heels. Brisley and
Gunn stood aside to give them passage; Gray and Monte Irvin prepared
to follow. At the doorway Kerry turned.

"You will all be good enough to stay where you are," he said. He
directed the aggressive stare in Seton's direction. "And if the
gentleman smoking a cheroot is not satisfied that he has quite
destroyed any clue perceptible by the sense of smell I should be glad
to send out for some fireworks."

He tossed his oilskin and his cane on the divan and went into the room
of seance, savagely biting at a piece of apparently indestructible
chewing-gum.

The torn green curtain had been laid aside and the electric lights
turned on in the inside rooms. Pallid, Sir Lucien Pyne lay by the
ebony chair glaring horribly upward.

Always with the keen eyes glancing this way and that, Inspector Kerry
crossed the little audience room and entered the enclosure contained
between the two screens. By the side of the dead man he stood, looking
down silently. Then he dropped upon one knee and peered closely into
the white face. He looked up.