make out some curious object dangling on a string over the hearth. He could not make out what it was, but the glow of the fire lighted up a dripping pan into which fell something which sizzled as it dripped.
Mr Semple went round to the front door again and knocked; but there was no response. Moodily he turned away and went back to School. He did not re-enter the Common Room. He went straight to the School House and up to his room. There was Rugby football going on at the end of his corridor. Mr Semple knocked two boys' heads together and kicked the bottom of a third. Feeling slightly better after thus rationalizing his feelings for Mr Conway, he went into his room, filled a pipe, and, forgetting to light it, sat and sullenly brooded.
He went to bed later than usual and slept well, although he had imagined that he would lie awake all night and grind his teeth in jealous anguish over the treachery of women. It was not until two mornings later that he got up early to rouse Kay for their morning exercise.
5.
*
Where shall we find such another Set of practical Philosophers?
IBID. (
ON the edge of Mr Kay's garden, just in front of the railings, they saw the body, this time of a man, and neither had the slightest doubt whose body it was, although it was lying on its face.
'Good Lord! It's Conway!' exclaimed Semple. 'Surely he's not. . .?'
'Surely he's not!' reiterated Kay, going up close. 'Good heavens! He must have been lying here for hours! He's soaked right through from the rain!'
He stopped down by the body and was about to turn it over when Semple said:
'What about a doctor? Just in case there's something that could be done. Anyhow, I wouldn't touch him. If he's got any broken bones you'll do more harm than good. Perhaps we could just loosen his collar. I'll do it while you send for a doctor.'
'Right. I'm on the phone,' said Kay, immediately straightening. 'Could you go over to Mr Wyck? I think he ought to know about this. I'm sure poor Conway is dead. Don't you think we should get Mr Wyck as soon as we can?'
'Yes, I do,' replied Semple. 'And I'll have to make certain no boys are likely to come this way. When you've telephoned for a doctor, I think we ought to get the police. Conway's been attacked, I rather think. Come and look at this deep mark on his neck! It looks as though someone tried some thuggery on him. I'm going to suggest to Mr Wyck that we call the police!'
He walked quickly out of the cottage garden – for he had stepped over the fence to look at the body – and then he stepped on to the turf and began to run. Mr Kay went into the cottage and picked up the telephone receiver.
*
Mr Wyck made no attempt to disguise his incredulity at the report brought by Mr Semple.
'Conway? Dead? Killed? – or suicide? Oh, nonsense!' he said. Then he added, 'It's quite impossible.'
'I'm afraid it's happened, sir,' said Mr Semple patiently. He accompanied the Headmaster to the cottage, where Mr Wyck was able to satisfy himself that matters were as dreadful as Mr Semple had indicated.
'We must have a doctor at once,' he said.
He stood looking down at the sprawled figure of Mr Conway from a point of vantage which gave him a view of the sinister deep red line which seared the young man's thick neck, and he realized at once that no doctor could make any difference.
'Mr Kay has telephoned, sir,' said Mr Semple. 'Here he comes.' Mr Kay came out of the cottage as the Headmaster looked up. He was very pale, but he greeted Mr Wyck in his usual tones, and with the accepted formula.
'Good morning, Headmaster.'
The Headmaster lifted gloomy eyes to Kay's face. He nodded an acknowledgement of the greeting but did not reply to it. After a few moments of brooding upon Mr Conway's body, he murmured:
'Terrible, terrible! Poor fellow! I wonder what possessed him? I had no idea of this! No idea at all. He must have been in some trouble we did not know of.'
'You don't really suppose this was suicide, sir?' asked Mr Semple incredulously. 'Look at the mark on his neck! You can see it plainly, even without turning him over. And then, sir, who cut him down? And where is the rope or weapon – or anything?'
'Come further off, my dear fellow,' said Mr Wyck, 'and explain to me what you mean.'
'Well, sir,' said Mr Semple, when they were at what Mr Wyck apparently regarded as a seemly distance from the body, 'I saw a bit of dirty work during the war ... I was a Commando, as I think you know . . . and if ever I saw a man who'd been set on, I'm afraid it's poor Conway. Besides, he was the very last type to make away with himself. He was far too conceited, although I don't want to criticize him now.'
'I don't believe you are right about that, you know,' said Mr Wyck soberly. 'He had the kind of character which I have often associated with suicides. Still, there is the other violence you mentioned. If the poor fellow has been set on and robbed, you had better keep all your information for the police. I will telephone them immediately, and then we had better all three wait until they turn up. Fortunately it is still very early. We shall not be missed for an hour or more yet. You will both keep silent upon this subject, of course, as long as you possibly can. Rumours will spread soon enough. I wonder – there was that farmer, a brutal, uncontrolled person –'
By this time Mr Kay, who had been looking anxiously up the road for the first sign of the doctor's car, had joined them, and the Headmaster turned to him, and seemed to scrutinize him closely. A flush rose beneath the yellow colouring of Mr Kay's sallow countenance, and he said, in a tone to which Mr Wyck was unaccustomed:
'There is no need to look at me like that, Headmaster! I can assure you that, although the circumstances look particularly black against me, I had no hand whatever in this deed!'
'I beg your pardon, Kay,' replied Mr Wyck equably to this outburst, although his eyebrows had risen and he looked grim. 'And I think perhaps you should ask mine. I had no thought in my head about the blackness of the circumstances except in so far as they affect poor Conway himself. I take it that you are concerned to find him like this within the bounds of your garden?'
'I most certainly am!' replied Mr Kay, with the same explosive energy as that to which the Headmaster had already objected. 'And I'm concerned to think of the attitude the police will adopt towards this business! I am bound to be involved, and I dislike the thought very much.'
'Well, you had better take another short stroll along the road, and see whether anyone is coming,' said Mr Wyck, perceiving that Mr Kay was really overwrought, and that there was nothing to be gained at the moment from discussing the tragedy with him.
Mr Kay, without another word, stepped over the low fence which separated his cottage garden from the School drive, and walked out through the gates.
'Unstable, unstable,' muttered Mr Wyck, who was feeling overwrought, too, as his active brain began to realize the magnitude of the disaster which had fallen like a blight upon the School. 'Now what can he know about it, Semple? No, don't answer, my boy! That is a most improper question for me to ask. And keep an open mind, my dear fellow, and a still tongue. And remember that farmer.'
'Of course, sir,' said Mr Semple, who, as an Old Boy, had never learned to call Mr Wyck by the title in use by the rest of the staff.
At this moment there was the sound of a car, and the doctor arrived from the village. He was the School doctor, and knew Mr Wyck well. He was shown the body and he knelt on the wet earth beside it. His examination was brief.
'Bad show,' he said, standing up and looking down at the sticky mould on the knees of his trousers. 'Better not brush that off until it dries. Yes, he's dead, I'm afraid. All his own work, do you suppose? . . . Don't answer that. It couldn't be. No weapon. And, unless I'm a half-wit, the fellow's been drowned. Post-mortem will settle that, though. Don't touch, him. Have you sent for the police? . . . Don't answer that either. Sorry for you! Damned sorry! Somebody didn't like him very much!'
