"Every one."

"Good," said Kerry. "Make a note of it. He wears a real pearl stud and
a good signet ring; also a gold wrist watch, face broken and hands
stopped at seven-fifteen. That was the time he died. He was stabbed
from behind as he stood where I'm standing now, fell forward, struck
his head on the leg of the chair, and lay face downwards."

"I've got that," muttered Coombes. "What stopped the watch?"

"Broken as he fell. There are tiny fragments of glass stuck in the
carpet, showing the exact position in which his body originally lay;
and for God's sake stop smiling."

Kerry threw open the door.

"Who first found the body?" he demanded of the silent company.

"I did," cried Quentin Gray, coming forward. "I and Seton Pasha."

"Seton Pasha!" Kerry's teeth snapped together, so that he seemed to
bite off the words. "I don't see a Turk present."

Seton smiled quietly.

"My friend uses a title which was conferred upon me some years ago by
the ex-Khedive," he said. "My name is Greville Seton."

Inspector Kerry glanced back across his shoulder.