"The little dinner was over," he said, using his hands to illustrate his speech. "I had removed everything but the wine. It had not been a merry party, no; it was all business, I think, and serious. When I enter the room to bring this or take that, they pause, say something of no consequence--evidently I am not to hear anything of what they are talking. They talk English, though only my master was English. One of his guests was German, the other a countryman of my own, but not of Tuscany, no, I think of the South. So there was only the wine on the table, and cigars, and the silver box of cigarettes. My master had in his hand a sheet of paper, and the German had taken a map from his pocket, and my countryman was laughing at something which amused him. I can see it all just as it was." He paused, closed his eyes, as if he would impress for ever on his memory what he had seen. "And now--this," he said, throwing out his arms. "This, and not two hours afterwards." This was certainly tragic enough. A shaded electric light hanging over the table left the corners of the room in shadow. The wine, the cigars, the silver cigarette box were still on the table, the smoke was heavy in the atmosphere. A tray contained cigar and cigarette ends. On either side of the table was a chair pushed back as it would be by a man rising from it. At the end was a chair, with arms, also pushed back a little, but it was not empty. In it was a man in evening dress, leaning back, his head fallen a little to one side, his arms hanging loosely. But for the arms of the chair he would have fallen to the floor. He was dead. How he had died was uncertain. A casual examination told nothing, and I had not moved him. I had arrived first and was expecting the doctor every moment. I happened to be in my office when the telephone message came through that Arthur Bridwell, M.P., had been found dead under suspicious circumstances in his flat at Duke's Mansions, Knightsbridge. I went there at once and found a constable in possession. It was barely half-past nine now, and the Italian manservant said he had last seen his master alive at seven o'clock. "He dined early to-night?" I said. "Yes, at six. He was going to the House afterwards. It was important, I heard him say so to his guests." "And you went out at seven?" "About seven. It is my custom to go for a walk after serving my master," was the answer. "I came back just before nine. I looked into this room, not expecting to find any one here, but to put the wine away and take the glasses, and I find this. I have moved nothing, I have touched nothing. I called to the porter, and he fetched the police, and the policeman used the telephone to call you."