“Then I should say that Robert came here meaning trouble, and bringing a revolver with him. He produced it almost at once, Mark tried to get it from him, there was a little struggle perhaps, and it went off. Mark lost his head, finding himself there with a revolver in his hand and a dead man at his feet. His one idea was to escape. He locked the door almost instinctively, and then, when he heard me hammering at it, went out of the window.” “Y-yes. Well, that sounds reasonable enough. What do you say, Mr. Gillingham?” “I should hardly call it ‘reasonable’ to lose your head,” said Antony, getting up from his chair and coming towards them. “Well, you know what I mean. It explains things.” “Oh, yes. Any other explanation would make them much more complicated.” “_Have_ you any other explanation?” “Not I.” “Are there any points on which you would like to correct Mr. Cayley?—anything that he left out after you arrived here?” “No, thanks. He described it all very accurately.” “Ah! Well now, about yourself. You’re not staying in the house, I gather?” Antony explained his previous movements. “Yes. Did you hear the shot?” Antony put his head on one side, as if listening. “Yes. Just as I came in sight of the house. It didn’t make any impression at the time, but I remember it now.” “Where were you then?” “Coming up the drive. I was just in sight of the house.” “Nobody left the house by the front door after the shot?” Antony closed his eyes and considered. “Nobody,” he said. “No.” “You’re certain of that?” “Absolutely,” said Antony, as though rather surprised that he could be suspected of a mistake. “Thank you. You’re at ‘The George,’ if I want you?” “Mr. Gillingham is staying here until after the inquest,” explained Cayley. “Good. Well now, about these servants?” CHAPTER V. Mr. Gillingham Chooses a New Profession As Cayley went over to the bell, Antony got up and moved to the door. “Well, you won’t want me, I suppose, inspector,” he said. “No, thank you, Mr. Gillingham. You’ll be about, of course?” “Oh, yes.” The inspector hesitated. “I think, Mr. Cayley, it would be better if I saw the servants alone. You know what they are; the more people about, the more they get alarmed. I expect I can get at the truth better by myself.” “Oh, quite so. In fact, I was going to ask you to excuse me. I feel rather responsible towards these guests of ours. Although Mr. Gillingham very kindly—” He smiled at Antony, who was waiting at the door, and left his sentence unfinished. “Ah, that reminds me,” said the Inspector. “Didn’t you say that one of your guests—Mr. Beverley was it?—a friend of Mr. Gillingham’s, was staying on?” “Yes; would you like to see him?” “Afterwards, if I may.” “I’ll warn him. I shall be up in my room, if you want me. I have a room upstairs where I work—any of the servants will show you. Ah, Stevens, Inspector Birch would like to ask you a few questions.” “Yes, sir,” said Audrey primly, but inwardly fluttering.