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Page 44
"Describe what he saw when he came in."
"He saw a negro footman--there isn't an Englishman in the house--
trying to pacify the girl out in the hall yonder, and a Malay
and another colored man beating their foreheads and howling.
There was no sense to be got out of any of them, so he started
to investigate for himself. He had taken the bearings of the place
earlier in the evening, and from the light in a window on the ground
floor had located the study; so he set out to look for the door.
When he found it, it was locked from the inside."
"Well?"
"He went out and round to the window. There's no blind, and from
the shrubbery you can see into the lumber-room known as the study.
He looked in, as apparently Miss Edmonds had done before him.
What he saw accounted for her hysterics."
Both Smith and I were hanging upon his words.
"All amongst the rubbish on the floor a big Egyptian mummy case was
lying on its side, and face downwards, with his arms thrown across it,
lay Sir Lionel Barton."
"My God! Yes. Go on."
"There was only a shaded reading-lamp alight, and it stood on a chair,
shining right down on him; it made a patch of light on the floor,
you understand." The Inspector indicated its extent with his bands.
"Well, as the man smashed the glass and got the window open,
and was just climbing in, he saw something else, so he says."
He paused.
"What did he see?" demanded Smith shortly.
"A sort of GREEN MIST, sir. He says it seemed to be alive.
It moved over the floor, about a foot from the ground, going away
from him and towards a curtain at the other end of the study."
Nayland Smith fixed his eyes upon the speaker.
"Where did he first see this green mist?"
"He says, Mr. Smith, that he thinks it came from the mummy case."
"Yes; go on."
"It is to his credit that he climbed into the room after
seeing a thing like that. He did. He turned the body over,
and Sir Lionel looked horrible. He was quite dead.
Then Croxted--that's the man's name--went over to this curtain.
There was a glass door--shut. He opened it, and it gave on
a conservatory--a place stacked from the tiled floor to the glass
roof with more rubbish. It was dark inside, but enough light
came from the study--it's really a drawing-room, by the way--
as he'd turned all the lamps on, to give him another glimpse
of this green, crawling mist. There are three steps to go down.
On the steps lay a dead Chinaman."
"A dead Chinaman!"
"A dead CHINAMAN."
"Doctor seen them?" rapped Smith.
"Yes; a local man. He was out of his depth, I could see.
Contradicted himself three times. But there's no need for
another opinion--until we get the coroner's."
"And Croxted?"
"Croxted was taken ill, Mr. Smith, and had to be sent home in a cab."
"What ails him?"
Detective-Inspector Weymouth raised his eyebrows and carefully
knocked the ash from his cigar.
"He held out until I came, gave me the story, and then fainted right away.
He said that something in the conservatory seemed to get him by the throat."
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