Mr. Manderton was there, broad-shouldered and burly. Behind came Dr. Romain with a purple nose and eyes watering with the cold, Horace Trevert in plain clothes, Mr. Bardy, the solicitor, plump, middle-aged, and prim, with a broad, smooth-shaven face and an eyeglass on a black silk riband. In the background loomed the large form of Inspector Humphries, ruddy of cheek as of hair. Lady Margaret did not appear. Mr. Manderton slapped his bowler hat briskly on a side table and with a little bow to Mary walked to the desk. “Now,” said Mr. Manderton with a long, shrewd look that comprehended the company, individually and collectively, and the entire room, “if Inspector Humphries will kindly close the door, we will reconstruct the crime in the light of the evidence we have collected.” He turned round to the desk and pulled back the chair ... Hartley Parrish’s empty chair. “It is just on five o’clock on Saturday evening, November 27,” he began, “and growing dark outside. Mr. Parrish is sitting here”—he tapped the chair—“with all the lights in the room turned off except this one on the desk.” Here he put a large hand on the reading-lamp. “The assumption that Mr. Parrish spent the afternoon, as he had spent the morning, over papers in connection with the business of Hornaway’s in which he was interested is not correct. Mr. Archer, one of Mr. Parrish’s secretaries who brought down a number of papers and letters for Mr. Parrish to sign in the morning, states that as far as Hornaway’s or any other office business was concerned, Mr. Parrish was through with it by lunch. This is corroborated by the fact that no business papers of this description, with the exception of one, which I am coming to directly, were found on the desk here after Mr. Parrish’s death. Nor were there any traces of burnt paper in or about the fire. These two facts were established by my colleague, Inspector Humphries.” At this everybody turned and looked at the Inspector, who blushed until the tint of his hair positively paled by comparison with that of his face. “What Mr. Archer _did_ leave with Mr. Parrish, however,” Mr. Manderton resumed, looking round the group and emphasising the “did,” “was his will and this letter ...”—he held up a typewritten sheet of slatey-blue paper—“which, a straightforward business communication in appearance, was in reality a threat against his life. It was with these two documents that Mr. Parrish spent the last few hours before he was found dead in this room. A few odd papers found lying on the desk have nothing to do with the case and may therefore be dismissed.” Mr. Manderton paused and then, with the deliberation which distinguished his every movement, walked round the desk to the window.