At the dead man’s house, his solicitor, old Sir Thomas Long, was busy in the library, and helping him, to Reggie’s surprise, was Herbert Charlecote. Herbert revealed himself as a pallid, dandyish man, punctiliously polite. Colourless--Dr. Newton hit him off to the life. Herbert was very gratified to make Mr. Fortune’s acquaintance. “I don’t know whether to hope you can throw any light on this miserable affair, sir?” Reggie shook his head. “Your uncle was stabbed, and died immediately of the wounds. That is the whole case, Mr. Charlecote. I suppose you can’t help us?” “I am bewildered. Quite dazed, Mr. Fortune.” Reggie nodded and lingered, and Herbert discreetly left him with the solicitor. “Well, Mr. Fortune?” Sir Thomas took off his glasses and pursed his lips. “Nothing. Well, Sir Thomas?” “Nothing, sir.” “Ah. That was a little odd, wasn’t it?” Reggie nodded at the door by which Herbert had gone out. “Mr. Herbert Charlecote offered to help me. He used to act as his uncle’s secretary. It was hardly for me to point out that there might be objections, if he was afraid of none.” “Does he know of the new will?” “Neither he nor his cousin Geoffrey. Mr. Herbert, I infer, believes himself sole heir, and Mr. Geoffrey believes himself disinherited.” “And yet, just after the new will is made the old man is murdered! Oh, it’s all wrong,” Reggie said peevishly. “An odd case. A very odd case, Mr. Fortune.” Sir Thomas put on his eyeglasses again. “But I’m afraid I can’t help you.” Superintendent Bell opened the door. But Reggie seemed reluctant to go, and on the stairs he loitered so much that the Superintendent turned--“Anything doing, sir?” “That gastric catarrh,” Reggie murmured. “Let’s see the valet.” The valet, an oldish man, was found. He testified that Mr. Charlecote had been much upset by the quarrel with Geoffrey. Mr. Charlecote had complained a good deal about his health. But there were no particular symptoms. Dr. Newton had been attending him for a long while. But the valet did not think that he had done Mr. Charlecote any good. For one thing, Mr. Charlecote did not take his medicine. There had been a good deal of medicine. Mr. Charlecote’s instructions were always to pour it down the sink. “And that’s that,” said Reggie as they went out. “We don’t get anywhere, sir, do we?” the Superintendent sympathized. “Anything you suggest?” “How does it strike Superintendent Bell?” “Looks like a bad case, sir. One of those where the criminal has all the luck. Verdict, persons unknown.” “So Scotland Yard leaves it at that?” “Unless Mr. Fortune has something up his sleeve.” “Nary card. But you know we’ve missed something, Bell.” “Have we, indeed, sir? And where shall we look for it?” “Oh, watch out. Watch everybody.” “Life is short, sir,” said Superintendent Bell gloomily, and with that they parted.