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Page 11
"Thank God!" he murmured, and let the body go again.
"Who is it?" said Antony.
"Robert Ablett."
"Oh!" said Antony. "I thought his name was Mark," he added, more
to himself than to the other.
"Yes, Mark Ablett lives here. Robert is his brother." He
shuddered, and said, "I was afraid it was Mark."
"Was Mark in the room too?"
"Yes," said Cayley absently. Then, as if resenting suddenly
these questions from a stranger, "Who are you?"
But Antony had gone to the locked door, and was turning the
handle. "I suppose he put the key in his pocket," he said, as he
came back to the body again.
"Who?"
Antony shrugged his shoulders.
"Whoever did this," he said, pointing to the man on the floor.
"Is he dead?"
"Help me," said Cayley simply.
They turned the body on to its back, nerving themselves to look
at it. Robert Ablett had been shot between the eyes. It was not
a pleasant sight, and with his horror Antony felt a sudden pity
for the man beside him, and a sudden remorse for the careless,
easy way in which he had treated the affair. But then one always
went about imagining that these things didn't happen--except to
other people. It was difficult to believe in them just at first,
when they happened to yourself.
"Did you know him well?" said Antony quietly. He meant, "Were
you fond of him?"
"Hardly at all. Mark is my cousin. I mean, Mark is the brother
I know best."
"Your cousin?"
"Yes." He hesitated, and then said, "Is he dead? I suppose he
is. Will you--do you know anything about--about that sort of
thing? Perhaps I'd better get some water."
There was another door opposite to the locked one, which led, as
Antony was to discover for himself directly, into a passage from
which opened two more rooms. Cayley stepped into the passage,
and opened the door on the right. The door from the office,
through which he had gone, remained open. The door, at the end
of the short passage was shut. Antony, kneeling by the body,
followed Cayley with his eyes, and, after he had disappeared,
kept his eyes on the blank wall of the passage, but he was not
conscious of that at which he was looking, for his mind was with
the other man, sympathizing with him.
"Not that water is any use to a dead body," he said to himself,
"but the feeling that you're doing something, when there's
obviously nothing to be done, is a great comfort."
Cayley came into the room again. He had a sponge in one hand, a
handkerchief in the other. He looked at Antony. Antony nodded.
Cayley murmured something, and knelt down to bathe the dead man's
face. Then he placed the handkerchief over it. A little sigh
escaped Antony, a sigh of relief.
They stood up and looked at each other.
"If I can be of any help to you," said Antony, "please let me."
"That's very kind of you. There will be things to do. Police,
doctors--I don't know. But you mustn't let me trespass on your
kindness. Indeed, I should apologise for having trespassed so
much already."
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