friend of hers. We're going along together.'
As he went to the door he said pleadingly: 'You'll give me a hand, won't you, uncle, over this? First case of this kind I've had.'
'As long as I'm here, I will. Case of robbery and house-breaking, is it?'
'I don't know yet.'
II
Half an hour later Major Robert Mitchell, the Chief Constable, was speaking gravely to uncle and nephew.
'It's early to say as yet,' he said, 'but one thing seems clear. This wasn't an outside job. Nothing taken, no signs of breaking in. All the windows and doors found shut this morning.'
He looked directly at Battle .
'If I were to ask Scotland Yard, do you think they'd put you on the job? You're on the spot, you see. And then there's your relationship with Leach here. That is, if you're willing. It means cutting the end of your holiday.'
'That's all right,' said Battle . 'As for the other, sir, you'll have to put it up to Sir Edgar' (Sir Edgar Cotton was Assistant Commissioner), 'but I believe he's a friend of yours?'
Mitchell nodded.
'Yes, I think I can manage Edgar all right. That's settled, then! I'll get through right away.'
He spoke into the telephone: 'Get me the Yard.'
'You think it's going to be an important case, sir?' asked Battle .
Mitchell said gravely: 'It's going to be a case where we don't want the possibility of making a mistake. We want to be absolutely sure of our man — or woman, of course.'
Battle nodded. He understood quite well that there was something behind the words.
'Thinks he knows who did it,' he said to himself. 'And doesn't relish the prospect. Somebody well known and popular, or I'll eat my boots!'
III
Battle and Leach stood in the doorway of the well-furnished handsome bedroom. On the floor in front of them a police officer was carefully testing for fingerprints the handle of a golf club — a heavy niblick. The head of the club was blood-stained and had one or two white hairs sticking to it.
By the bed Dr. Lazenby, who was police surgeon for the district, was bending over the body of Lady Tressilian.
He straightened up with a sigh.
'Perfectly straightforward. She was hit from in front with terrific force. First blow smashed in the bone and killed her, but the murderer struck again to make sure. I won't give you fancy terms — just the plain horse sense of it.'
'How long has she been dead?' asked Leach.
'I'd put it between ten o'clock and midnight.'
'You can't go nearer than that?'
'I'd rather not. All sorts of factors to take into account. We don't hang people on rigor mortis nowadays. Not earlier than ten, not later than midnight.'
'And she was hit with this niblick?' The doctor glanced over at it.
'Presumably. Luck, though, that the murderer left it behind. I couldn't have deduced a niblick from the wound. As it happens, the sharp end of the club didn't touch the head — it was the angled back of the club that must have hit her.'
'Wouldn't that have been rather difficult to do?' asked Leach.
'If it had been done on purpose, yes,' agreed the doctor. 'I can only suppose that by a rather odd chance it just happened that way.'
Leach was raising his hands, instinctively trying to re-construct the blow. 'Awkward,' he commented.
'Yes,' said the doctor thoughtfully. 'The whole thing was awkward. She was struck, you see, on the right temple — but whoever did it must have stood on the right-hand side of the bed — facing the head of the bed — there's no room on the left, the angle from the wall is too small.'
Leach pricked up his ears. 'Left-handed?' he queried.
'You won't get me to commit myself on that point,' said Lazenby. 'Far too many snags. I'll say, if you like, that the easiest explanation is that the murderer was left-handed — but there are other ways of accounting for it. Suppose, for instance, the old lady had turned her head slightly to the left just as the man hit. Or he may have previously moved the bed out, stood on the left of it and afterwards moved the bed back.'
'Not very likely— that last.'
'Perhaps not, but it might have happened. I've had some experience in these things, and I can tell you, my boy, deducing that a murderous blow was struck left-handed is full of pitfalls.'
Detective Sergeant Jones from the floor remarked, 'This golf club is the ordinary right-handed kind.'
Leach nodded. 'Still, it mayn't have belonged to the man who used it. It was a man, I suppose, doctor?'
'Not necessarily. If the weapon was that heavy niblick a woman could have landed a terrible swipe with it.'
Superintendent Battle said in his quiet voice: 'But you couldn't swear that that was the weapon, could you, doctor?'
Lazenby gave him a quick, interested glance.
'No. I can only swear that it might have been the weapon, and that presumably it was the weapon. I'll analyse the blood on it, make sure that it's the same blood group — also the hairs.'
'Yes,' said Battle approvingly. 'It's always as well to be thorough.'
Lazenby asked curiously: 'Got any doubts about that golf club yourself. Superintendent?'
Battle shook his head.
'Oh, no, no. I'm a simple man. Like to believe the things I see with my eyes. She was hit with something heavy — that's heavy. It has blood and hair on it, therefore presumably her blood and hair. Ergo — that was the weapon used.'
Leach asked: 'Was she awake or asleep when she was hit?'
'In my opinion, awake. There's astonishment on her face. I'd say — this is just a private personal opinion — that she didn't expect what was going to happen. There's no sign of any attempt to fight — and no horror or fear. I'd say offhand that either she had just woken up from sleep and was hazy and didn't take things in — or else she recognised her assailant as someone who could not possibly wish to harm her.'
'The bedside lamp was on and nothing else,' said Leach thoughtfully.
'Yes, that cuts either way. She may have turned it on when she was suddenly woken up by someone entering her room. Or it may have been on already.'
Detective Sergeant Jones rose to his feet. He was smiling appreciatively. 'Lovely set of prints on that club,' he said. 'Clear as anything!' Leach gave a deep sigh. 'That ought to simplify things.'
'Obliging chap,' said Dr. Lazenby. 'Left the weapon — left his fingerprints on it — wonder he didn't leave his visiting card!'
'It might be,' said Superintendent Battle, 'that he just lost his head. Some do.'
The doctor nodded.
'True enough. Well, I must go and look after my other patient.'
'What patient?' Battle sounded suddenly interested.
'I was sent for by the butler before this was discovered. Lady Tressilian's maid was found in a coma this morning.'
