"Dr. Herrick," said Jim, glancing at what he profanely called the official ticket. "Have you breakfasted Mr. Inspector? If not, or if you have--it really doesn't really matter--take the meal with me. I must eat before I can talk." Bridge was only too willing, and Herrick went up several degrees in his good opinion. "Napper can cater excellently," said he rubbing his hands. "I have often tested his hospitality." Dr. Jim privately thought that the Inspector was not averse to testing anyone's hospitality: but the man seemed decent enough, and Herrick was sufficiently worldly-wise to make himself agreeable to Jack-in-Office. In another half hour the two were seated in a pleasant parlour before a well-spread table. Bridge performed wonders in the way of eating. How he could remain lean with such an appetite, was a wonder to Jim. But the doctor himself was not far behind, and between the two of them, they swept the table clean. Then Herrick lighted his pipe, ensconced himself in a chintz-covered arm-chair near the window, and prepared to answer the Inspector's questions before asking several of his own. At the out-set Bridge detailed, all that had been done up to that moment. Three policemen were looking after "The Pines" (so was the house called), and guarding the dead; a doctor was expected from Beorminster to inspect the body; the Coroner to attend to the inquest; and the relatives of the deceased had been notified. Then Mr. Inspector put Herrick through a stiff examination, and took down all he said. When the officer was quite satisfied and his note-book was full, Jim proceeded to make enquiries on his own account. The strangeness of the whole affair, roused his curiosity, and--as Bridge pleasantly observed,--he showed marked symptoms of "detective fever." This was the first time Jim had stumbled across the disease. "The dead man was called Colonel Carr?" asked Dr. Herrick, crossing his legs. The Inspector nodded. "A well-known county name," said he, "Wilfred Lloyd Carr. You can see it in Burke's Landed Gentry. But what you will not see," added Bridge with a dry cough, "is the name he was known by hereabouts,--wicked Colonel Carr sir. That is what every man woman and child called him, not without reason Doctor." "H'm! It does sound as though he had a bad reputation." "Bad sir," echoed the Inspector not without pride, "a regular out and out rip. But that he belonged to the gentry, he would have been through my hands I can tell you. And to think of him being murdered. I ain't astonished, no I ain't astonished. He was too wicked to die in his bed as the Christian he wasn't." "Why do you say he was murdered?" asked Jim alertly. "The revolver was in his hand. Looks like suicide to me,--at the first glance of course."