Dr. O’Reilly shook his head. “The clothes have all been burned,” he said, “and the wound has been washed, otherwise one might have looked for powder blackening.” “Did you know either the dead man or Dr. Main personally?” “Only very slightly. I may say I saw just such a pistol as might cause that sort of wound in Main’s hands the day before he gave out that Rewse had been attacked by small-pox. I drove past the cottage as he stood in the doorway with it in his hand. He had the breach opened, and seemed to be either loading or unloading it--which it was I couldn’t say.” “Very good, doctor, that may be important. Now is there any single circumstance, incident or conjecture that you can tell me of in regard to this case that you have not already mentioned?” Doctor O’Reilly thought for a moment, and replied in the negative. “I heard, of course,” he said, “of the reported new case of small-pox, and that Main had taken the case in hand himself. I was indeed relieved to hear it, for I had already more on my hands than one man can safely be expected to attend to. The cottage was fairly isolated, and there could have been nothing gained by removal to an asylum--indeed there was practically no accommodation. So far as I can make out nobody seems to have seen young Rewse, alive or dead, after Main had announced that he had the small-pox. He seems to have done everything himself, laying out the body and all, and you may be pretty sure that none of the strangers about was particularly anxious to have anything to do with it. The undertaker (there is only one here, and he is down with the small-pox himself now) was as much overworked as I was myself, and was glad enough to send off a coffin by a market cart and leave the laying out and screwing down to Main, since he had got those orders. Main made out the death certificate himself, and, since he was trebly qualified, everything seemed in order.” “The certificate merely attributed the death to small-pox, I take it, with no qualifying remarks?” “Small-pox simply.” Hewitt and Mr. Bowyer bade Dr. O’Reilly good-morning, and their car was turned in the direction of the cottage where Algernon Rewse had met his death. At the Town Hall in the market-place, however, Hewitt stopped the car and set his watch by the public clock. “This is more than half an hour before London time,” he said, “and we mustn’t be at odds with the natives about the time.” As he spoke Dr. O’Reilly came running up breathlessly. “I’ve just heard something,” he said. “Three men heard a shot in the cottage as they were passing, last Tuesday week.” “Where are the men?” “I don’t know at the moment; but they can be found. Shall I set about it?” “If you possibly can,” Hewitt said, “you will help us enormously. Can you send them messages to be at the cottage as soon as they can get there to-day? Tell them they shall have half a sovereign apiece.” “Right, I will. Good-day.”