As the inspector entered the library with Jefferson from the hall, Roger, who had heard his arrival and was determined to miss no more of this interesting situation than he could possibly help, contrived to present himself at the French windows, the faithful Alec still in tow. “Good-morning, Inspector,” he said cheerfully. Jefferson frowned slightly; perhaps he was remembering his last words to Roger. “These are Mr. Sheringham and Mr. Grierson, Inspector,” he said a little brusquely. “They were present when we broke the door in.” The inspector nodded. “Good-morning, gentlemen. Sad business, this. Very.” He glanced rapidly round the room. “Ah, there’s the body. Excuse me, Major.” He stepped quickly across and bent over the figure in the chair, examining it attentively. Then he dropped on his knees and scrutinised the hand that held the revolver. “Mustn’t touch anything till the doctor’s seen him,” he explained briefly, rising to his feet again and dusting the knees of his trousers. “May I have a look at that document you spoke of, sir?” “Certainly, Inspector. It’s on the table.” Jefferson showed where the paper was lying, and the inspector picked it up. Roger edged farther into the room. The presence of himself and Alec had not been challenged, and he wished to establish his right to be there. Furthermore, he was uncommonly curious to hear the inspector’s views on the somewhat remarkable document he was now studying. The inspector looked up. “H’m!” he observed noncommittally, laying the paper on the table again. “To the point, at any rate. Was Mr. Stanworth in the habit of using a typewriter instead of pen and ink?” “Just the point I mentioned, Inspector,” Roger broke in. “Indeed, sir?” said the inspector politely. He turned to Jefferson. “Do you happen to know, Major Jefferson?” “Yes, I think he was,” Jefferson said thoughtfully. “He certainly always wrote his letters on it. I fancy he used it a good deal.” “But to sit down and type a thing like that!” Roger exclaimed. “It seems so unnecessary somehow.” “And what do you make of it then, Mr. Sheringham?” the inspector asked with tolerant interest. “I should say it showed a cold-blooded deliberation that proves Mr. Stanworth to have been a very exceptional man,” Roger replied quickly. The inspector smiled faintly. “I see you’re more used to considering characters than actions,” he said. “Now I should have said that a more ordinary explanation might be that Mr. Stanworth, having already something else to type on the machine, slipped in a piece of paper and did that at the same time.” “Oh!” Roger remarked, somewhat nonplussed. “Yes, I never thought of that.” “It’s extraordinary what simple things one doesn’t think of at times,” said the inspector wisely. “But in that case,” Roger observed thoughtfully, “wouldn’t you expect to find the other thing he had been typing? It can hardly have left the room, can it?”