tell him that he must take all measures and precautions for a scoop. Say that
Figgis will be over in five minutes with the facts, and that he had better let
him write up the story in his private room. As you go, ask Miss Morgan to see
me here at once, and tell the telephone people to see if they can get Mr.
Trent on the wire for me. After seeing Mr. Anthony, return here and stand by.'
The alert-eyed young man vanished like a spirit.

Sir James turned instantly to Mr. Figgis, whose pencil was poised over the
paper. 'Sigsbee Manderson has been murdered,' he began quickly and clearly,
pacing the floor with his hands behind him. Mr. Figgis scratched down a line
of shorthand with as much emotion as if he had been told that the day was
fine--the pose of his craft. 'He and his wife and two secretaries have been
for the past fortnight at the house called White Gables, at Marlstone, near
Bishopsbridge. He bought it four years ago. He and Mrs. Manderson have since
spent a part of each summer there. Last night he went to bed about half-past
eleven, just as usual. No one knows when he got up and left the house. He was
not missed until this morning. About ten o'clock his body was found by a
gardener. It was lying by a shed in the grounds. He was shot in the head,
through the left eye. Death must have been instantaneous. The body was not
robbed, but there were marks on the wrists which pointed to a straggle having
taken place. Dr Stock, of Marlstone, was at once sent for, and will conduct
the post-mortem examination. The police from Bishopsbridge, who were soon on
the spot, are reticent, but it is believed that they are quite without a clue
to the identity of the murderer. There you are, Figgis. Mr. Anthony is
expecting you. Now I must telephone him and arrange things.'

Mr. Figgis looked up. 'One of the ablest detectives at Scotland Yard,' he
suggested, 'has been put in charge of the case. It's a safe statement.'

'If you like,' said Sir James.