“So Mr. Thomas sent you for the policeman?” Smith asked. “Yes.” “Did he run down to examine the body himself?” “No, sir.” “What did he say exactly?” “He said: ‘Fetch the police!’ Or: ‘Get the police!’ I think he said. That’s all I know, sir. None of the servants know anything about it. I’m the only one.” “You heard no shot?” “No, sir.” Smith turned to the motley group. “Did any of you hear a shot here tonight?” he demanded. They all shook their heads. He turned once more to the butler. “When you returned with the policeman, where did you find Mr. Thomas?” “He was still upstairs, sir.” “He hadn’t come down?” “No, sir. But the children were down.” “That’ll be all,” said Smith. “Will you go upstairs now and tell Mr. Thomas to come down to the drawing-room immediately?” CHAPTER VIII A CLEAR CASE When we had done examining the servants, these were the undisputed facts that emerged: Mrs. Breese was last seen alive at about ten minutes after ten, and discovered dead at half-past ten. No shot was heard. There were fifteen servants in the house at the time, Mr. Thomas, the Countess and young Henry Breese. No visitors had called during the evening. This fact was confirmed by the butler and by the Japanese footman who answered the bell. There had, in fact, been no visitors at all during the day. We returned to the drawing-room to find Mr. Thomas awaiting us. I could not at first recognize him. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot. “My name’s Smith, I’m with the police here. I just want to ask you a few questions, Mr. Thomas.” Thomas did not seem to hear him. His eyes were fixed upon the outstretched figure of Mrs. Breese. “What do you want to know?” he managed to say finally. His hands were trembling visibly. “Now take it easy,” Smith placated him. “I know this must be a terrible shock to you, and I don’t want to make it any harder. This is just a matter of routine.” Thomas looked up quickly, with relief, I thought. He breathed easier. “I don’t know a thing--not a thing,” he assured us. “As I understand it,” began Smith, “you and Mrs. Breese were alone in this room after dinner. Mrs. Breese received a telephone call from Mr. Rice. What happened then, Mr. Thomas?” “Why--nothing happened. I went upstairs while she was talking to Rice--I went upstairs to write a letter. Just when I’d gotten through, the butler ran up to tell me what had happened. It was an awful blow to me. I can’t realize yet it’s true.” He stared as if fascinated at the outstretched body. “You heard no sound upstairs?” “No--nothing.” “When the butler ran up to tell you the news, what did you do?” “Why--I sent him to fetch a policeman at once!” “You didn’t think a doctor was necessary?” “No. He said she was--dead.” “He may have been excited. Surely you went down to investigate.” Thomas squirmed. “No--I didn’t. I couldn’t--I couldn’t go in that room alone. My nerves wouldn’t stand it.”