flooded with soft light thrown by concealed lamps set around the cornice
of the ceiling.

"Look!" responded the doctor by way of answer and stepped aside to let
the young man come up to the desk. "He has a pistol in his hand!"

Robin Greve took a step forward and stopped dead. He gazed for an
instant without speaking on the dead face of his host and rival.

"Suicide!"

It was an affirmation rather than a question, and the little doctor took
it up. He was not a young man and the shock and the excitement were
beginning to tell on his nerves.

"I am not a police surgeon," he said with some asperity; "in fact, I may
say I have not seen a dead body since my hospital days. I ... I ... know
nothing about these things. This is a matter for the police. They must
be summoned at once. Where's Bude?"

Robin Greve turned quickly.

"Get on to the police station at Stevenish at once, Bude," he ordered.
"Do you know the Inspector?"

"Yessir," the butler answered in a hollow voice. His hands were
trembling violently, and he seemed to control himself with difficulty.
"Mr. Humphries, sir!"

"Well, ring him up and tell him that Mr. Parrish ... Hullo, what do all