“I made inquiries among the servants. The last of them to see Mr. Prinsep alive was the butler, Winter, who collected from him his late letters for the post. That was at 10.30 or thereabouts. The deceased was sitting at his table, working at a lot of figures. He seemed in a bad temper, but that, Winter says, was nothing unusual. But from the same Winter I obtained a very valuable piece of evidence. At about a quarter to eleven Mr. George Brooklyn called to see the deceased. He said he would show himself upstairs, and did so. He was seen by Winter and the other servants leaving the house by the front door at about 11.30. It was on receiving this information that I telephoned to you asking for the immediate arrest of Mr. George Brooklyn, who was believed to be staying at the Cunningham Hotel.” “Yes,” said the superintendent. “I sent two men round there. They were informed that Mr. Brooklyn had booked rooms, and that his wife had spent the night in the hotel. He had not been there since the previous day before dinner. I was about to take further steps when I received your second message.” “Quite so. Now I come, sir, to the really extraordinary part of the case. Immediately before telephoning to you I had received an urgent message to come down to the garden, where the sergeant was making investigations. In the garden I found a body, which was identified by a young lady who lives in the house—Sir Vernon Brooklyn’s ward, I understand—as that of Mr. George Brooklyn himself. He was in evening dress, without hat or coat, and the body was lying on the steps of a curious sort of stone summer house—they call it the Grecian temple—where it had been dragged. The cause of death—the doctors confirm this—was a terrific blow on the back of the head, and the weapon was lying a few yards from the body. I have it here in the parcel.” The inspector lifted the heavy club with an effort on to the table, and the superintendent gave an involuntary start of surprise as he saw the strange weapon that had been employed in this sinister tragedy. “It is, as you see, sir, a heavy stone club. It is part of a group of statuary—a Hercules, they tell me—which stands in the garden about four yards from the summer-house or temple. It has obviously been detached for some time from the rest of the statue. On it are some bloodstains and hairs which correspond to those of the dead man. There are also finger-prints, which I suppose you will have examined. I took the precaution to secure finger-prints of both the dead men for possible use. They are here.” The inspector handed over another parcel.