“You had rather a shocking experience here, in Mr. Fleming’s death,” Rand said, over his shoulder, to the butler.

“Oh, yes indeed, sir!” Walters seemed relieved that Rand had broken the silence.  “A great loss to all of us, sir.  And so unexpected.”

He didn’t seem averse to talking about it, and went on at some length.  His story closely paralleled that of Gladys Fleming.

“Mr. Varcek called the doctor immediately,” he said.  “Then Mr. Dunmore pointed out that the doctor would be obliged to notify either the coroner or the police, so he called Mr. Goode, the family solicitor.  That was about twenty minutes after the shot.  Mr. Goode arrived directly; he was here in about ten minutes.  I must say, sir, I was glad to see him; to tell the truth, I had been afraid that the authorities might claim that Mr. Fleming had shot himself deliberately.”

Somebody else doesn’t like the smell of that accident, Rand thought.  Aloud, he said: 

“Mr. Goode lives nearby, then, I take it?”

“Oh, yes, sir.  You can see his house from these windows.  Over here, sir.”

Rand looked out the window.  The rain-soaked lawn of the Fleming residence ended about a hundred yards to the west; beyond it, an orchard was beginning to break into leaf, and beyond the orchard and another lawn stood a half-timbered Tudor-style house, somewhat smaller than the Fleming place.  A path led down from it to the orchard, and another led from the orchard to the rear of the house from which Rand looked.

“Must be comforting to know your lawyer’s so handy,” he commented.  “And what do you think, Walters?  Are you satisfied, in your own mind, that Mr. Fleming was killed accidentally?”

The servant looked at him seriously.  “No, sir; I’m not,” he replied.  “I’ve thought about it a great deal, since it happened, sir, and I just can’t believe that Mr. Fleming would have that revolver, and start working on it, without knowing that it was loaded.  That just isn’t possible, if you’ll pardon me, sir.  And I can’t understand how he would have shot himself while removing the charges.  The fact is, when I came up here at quarter of seven, to call him for cocktails, he had the whole thing apart and spread out in front of him.”  The butler thought for a moment.  “I believe Mr. Dunmore had something like that in mind when he called Mr. Goode.”

“Well, what happened?” Rand asked.  “Did the coroner or the doctor choke on calling it an accident?”

“Oh no, sir; there was no trouble of any sort about that.  You see, Dr. Yardman called the coroner, as soon as he arrived, but Mr. Goode was here already.  He’d come over by that path you saw, to the rear of the house, and in through the garage, which was open, since Mrs. Dunmore was out with the coupe.  They all talked it over for a while, and the coroner decided that there would be no need for any inquest, and the doctor wrote out the certificate.  That was all there was to it.”