of post-mortem examinations, it has proved to be, the reason for the lady’s death would have appeared.  And, for that matter, the reason for Captain May’s death also.  To say there was no reason is, of course, absurd.  Nothing ever yet happened, or could happen, without a reason.  The springs of action were arrested and the machine instantly ran down.  But a man is not a clock, which can be stopped and reveal no sign of the thing that stopped it.  Life is a far more complex matter than a watch-spring, and if we knew more we might not be faced with so many worthless post-mortem reports.  But Sir Howard Fellowes is not often beaten.  I repeat, however, I do not associate the two deaths in the Grey Room or connect them as the result of one and the same cause.  I do not state this as a fact beyond dispute, but that, for the present, is my assumption.  The gap in time seems too considerable.  I suspect other causes, and shall have to make researches into the dead man’s past life.  I should wish also to examine all his property.  He has been in foreign countries, and may have brought back something concerning the nature of which he was ignorant.  He may possess enemies, of whom neither you nor Mrs. May have heard anything.  Your knowledge of him, recollect, extends over only a short time—­eight or ten months, I suppose.  I shall visit his ship and his cabin in H. M. S. Indomitable also, and learn all that his fellow officers can tell me.”

Sir Walter looked at his watch.

“It is now nearly one o’clock,” he said, “and at two we usually take luncheon.  What would you wish to do between now and then?  None here but ourselves and my butler—­an old friend in all my secrets—­knows you have come professionally.  I concealed the fact and called you ‘Forbes,’ at your wish, though they cannot fail to suspect, I fear.”

“Thank you.  I will see the room, then, and look round the place.  Perhaps after luncheon, if she feels equal to the task, Mrs. May will give me a private interview.  I want to learn everything possible concerning your late son-in-law—­his career before Jutland, his philosophy of life, his habits and his friends.”

“She will very gladly tell you everything she can.”

They ascended to the Grey Room.

“Not the traditional haunt of spooks, certainly,” said Peter Hardcastle as they entered the bright and cheerful chamber.  The day was clear, and from the southern window unclouded sunshine came.

“Nothing is changed?” he asked.

“Nothing.  The room remains as it has been for many years.”

“Kindly describe exactly where Captain May was found.  Perhaps Mr. Lennox will imitate his posture, if he remembers it?”

“Remember it!  I shall never forget it,” said Henry.  “I first saw him from below.  He was looking out of the open window and kneeling here on this seat.”

“Let us open the window then.”

The situation and attitude of the dead on discovery were imitated, and Hardcastle examined the spot.  Then he himself occupied the position and looked out.