The Colonel knitted his brows. “There was a book open on his desk, now you come to mention it—I remember seeing it there—what was it called now?” he searched his mind in the effort of remembrance—“I know—it was Renan’s _Vie de Jésus_.” CHAPTER XIV Mr. Bathurst Takes a Book From the Bookcase The Colonel made this announcement with an air! “By Gad!” it seemed to say—“I’ll show these police fellers and detective Johnnies that they aren’t the only people that can use their eyes or their memories!” Then Mr. Bathurst jerked him back from his ecstatic contemplation to stern reality. “Now Colonel,” he said, “think very carefully—when did you see this book lying on Mr. Stewart’s desk—when you entered the library after dinner—or when you left him at ten o’clock?” The Colonel frowned. “Damn it all, sir,” he muttered, “you expect a man to remember a devil of a lot—had I known there was going to be a murder, I might have taken more particular notice,” he glared at his questioner with growing impatience. Anthony smiled. “As a matter of fact, sir—I wouldn’t have troubled to ask that question of ninety-nine persons out of a hundred—because I know I should get no satisfaction. The ordinary person is very unobservant. But I have been so impressed with the various points that you have remembered.” The Colonel grunted his satisfaction—he was a soldier and therefore not unmoved by flattery. “Thank you—thank you,” he muttered. “Now let me see if I _can_ help you in this particular instance.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds seeking either concentration or inspiration—perhaps both. “The book was lying open on poor Stewart’s desk when he took me into the library—I’m certain of that now I cast my mind back—and I’m almost equally certain that it was in exactly the same position when I said ‘Good-bye’—I can’t remember him closing it or putting it away—he was talking pretty seriously to me virtually the entire evening. Yes”—he reflected, giving himself a species of mental check—“I’m confident that’s right.” Anthony held out his hand. “That’s excellent, Colonel.” Colonel Leach-Fletcher took it in his. “Must you be going?” “Afraid so, Colonel—we’ve a heap of things to see to, Mr. Daventry and I—and we haven’t too much time at our disposal—coming over to see you has helped us no end—no doubt I shall see you again before the affair is finally settled.” “When is the inquest fixed for?” queried the Colonel. “Haven’t been told yet,” answered Anthony, “but in all probability it will only be formal at the first inquiry. The Police will probably take evidence of identification and then ask the Coroner for an adjournment. I’ll make arrangements for you to know as soon as we get the news at Assynton Lodge—still you’ll be wanted yourself—I was forgetting that.”