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He knew all the facts that Inspector Dawfield and Sergeant Pengowan could impart. He knew of Robert Turold's long quest for the lost title, the object of his visit to Cornwall, his near attainment to success, his summons to his family to receive the news.
"Perhaps he imagined you might persuade him against it," sighed Mrs. Pendleton. "It is all very strange. I do not understand it a bit." Mr. Brimsdown thought it strange, then and afterwards. Next day, after going to the police station and handing Robert Turold's letter to Inspector Dawfield, he sought out the Penzance lawyer who had drawn up the will. Mr.
"Thalassa told Pengowan that Robert Turold kept the revolver in the drawer of his writing table," Dawfield remarked. "I have read Pengowan's report," returned Barrant impatiently, "and I am assuming that Robert Turold's daughter knew where it was kept. This is a purely constructive theory of her guilt, and we have to assume many things.
It is as well not to lose sight of that fact." Inspector Dawfield looked up quickly, but his colleague's face revealed nothing of his thoughts. "Hadn't you some idea that the marks on the arm might have been caused by the removal of the body into the next room?" he hazarded. "Not now," Barrant replied.
"I do not I cannot believe that my brother has taken his own life. In fact, I am sure he did not." On hearing these words Inspector Dawfield looked at his visitor again, with something more than surprise in his eyes, then he pulled a document from a pigeonhole and hastily scanned it. "Pengowan's report states quite definitely that it is suicide," he said as he replaced it.
"That theory was only tenable on the supposition that life was not completely extinct when the body was removed. But I interviewed Dr. Ravenshaw on that point last night, and what he told me disposes of that theory." "I heard something from one of my men this morning which may have some bearing on the case," remarked Dawfield. "There has been a lot of local gossip about it.
"I am Detective Barrant of Scotland Yard. I wish to speak to you privately." His emphasis on the last word was not lost on Charles Turold. With a slight indifferent nod to Mr. Brimsdown he went out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. "I have come to see you about this letter which you left with Inspector Dawfield."
How long has this man been in your brother's employ?" "A number of years, I believe," replied Mrs. Pendleton. "But he has a wicked face," she added hastily, as though that fact cancelled a record of lengthy service. "I took a dislike to him as soon as I saw him." Inspector Dawfield veiled a slight smile with a sheet of foolscap. "Have you any other reason for suspecting him?"
The sergeant was at that moment engaged in a room downstairs drawing up his reasons for that belief. "A kind of confirmatory report," Dawfield explained. "He fears that his reputation is at stake." "He can save himself the trouble," said Barrant. "The solution of Robert Turold's death lies in these two rooms, if anywhere."
Pendleton spoke earnestly, drawing her chair closer with the feeling that the man before her had sufficient intelligence to give her a sympathetic hearing. "So I gathered from your card. It seems a very sad case. Sergeant Pengowan's report has just reached me. Anything I can do for you " Inspector Dawfield pretended to occupy himself in cutting open an official envelope with scrupulous care.
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