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He wouldn't come to-day, him being a chapel-goer and religious. It was there we found poor Mr. Parrish d'you see, sir, just between the window and the desk!" But Bruce Wright did not heed him. His eyes were fixed on the big writing-desk, on the line of black japanned letter-trays set out in orderly array. Outside, the short winter afternoon was drawing in fast, and the light was failing.

Strain his eyes as he might, he could not get a clear view of the contents of the letter-trays on the desk. But their high backs hid their contents from his eyes. Even when he hoisted himself on to the window-sill he could not get a better view. He dropped back on to the gravel path and listened.

He saw a neat array of letter-trays, costly silver and tortoise-shell writing appointments, a couple of heavy gold fountain pens, and an orderly collection of pencils. Lying flat on the great silver-edged blotter was a long brown envelope which had been opened.

"I found it in the library," replied the girl, "on the desk. It had got tucked away between two letter-trays one fits into the other, you know." "I wondered how Jeekes had come to miss it," said Robin. "But when was this?" he added. "On Sunday afternoon." "But what were you doing in the library?" The girl became a little embarrassed. "I knew Mr. Manderton was suspicious of you.

On it was a large brass lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish's chair was vacant, pushed back a little way from the desk.

Hartley Parrish's desk was arranged just as he always remembered it to have been. All the letter-trays save one were empty. In that was a little pile of papers held down by a massive marble paper-weight. Quickly he stepped round the desk. He had put out his hand to lift the weight when there was a gentle rattle at the door.

It was Hartley Parrish's will. The letter was merely a covering note from Mr. Bardy, of the firm of Jerringham, Bardy and Company, a well-known firm of solicitors, dated the previous evening. Robin replaced letter and document in their envelope without reading them. "So that's it!" he murmured to himself. "Suicide? But why?" All the letter-trays save one were empty.

It was tucked away between two letter-trays. One tray fitted into the other, and this letter had slipped between. It seems to have been overlooked both by Mr. Parrish's secretary and the police ..." "But I confess," argued the Major, "that I don't see how this letter, which appears to be a very ordinary business communication, implicates anybody at all. Why shouldn't the police see it?..."

Bruce Wright looked at the array of letter-trays. The marble paper-weight had been displaced. The tray in which it had lain was empty. He looked at the sheaf of papers in the girl's hand. "I wanted to see," he replied, "whether there was anything here ... on his desk ... which would explain the mystery of his death ..." The girl spread out the papers in her hand on the big blotter.