It was in the bathroom that he told me Elinor’s story.  According to her, it was a simple case of suicide.  And she was honest about it, in her own way.  She was shocked, but she was not pretending any wild grief.  She hadn’t wanted him to die, but she had not felt that they could go on much longer together.  There had been no quarrel other than their usual bickering.  They had been going to a dance that night.  The servants had all gone out immediately after dinner to a servants’ ball and the governess had gone for a walk.  She was to return at nine-thirty to fasten Elinor’s gown and to be with the children.

Arthur, she said, had been depressed for several days, and at dinner had hardly spoken at all.  He had not, however, objected to the dance.  He had, indeed, seemed strangely determined to go, although she had pleaded a headache.  At nine o’clock he went upstairs, apparently to dress.

She was in her room, with the door shut, when she heard a shot.  She ran in and found him lying on the floor of his dressing-room with his revolver behind him.  The governess was still out.  The shot had roused the children, and they had come down from the nursery above.  She was frantic, but she had to soothe them.  The governess, however, came in almost immediately, and she had sent her to the telephone to summon help, calling Sperry first of all, and then the police.

“Have you seen the revolver?” I asked.

“Yes.  It’s all right, apparently.  Only one shot had been fired.”

“How soon did they get a doctor?”

“It must have been some time.  They gave up telephoning, and the governess went out, finally, and found one.”

“Then, while she was out—?”

“Possibly,” Sperry said.  “If we start with the hypothesis that she was lying.”

“If she cleaned up here for any reason,” I began, and commenced a desultory examination of the room.  Just why I looked behind the bathtub forces me to an explanation I am somewhat loath to make, but which will explain a rather unusual proceeding.  For some time my wife has felt that I smoked too heavily, and out of her solicitude for me has limited me to one cigar after dinner.  But as I have been a heavy smoker for years I have found this a great hardship, and have therefore kept a reserve store, by arrangement with the housemaid, behind my tub.  In self-defence I must also state that I seldom have recourse to such stealthy measures.

Believing then that something might possibly be hidden there, I made an investigation, and could see some small objects lying there.  Sperry brought me a stick from the dressing-room, and with its aid succeeded in bringing out the two articles which were instrumental in starting us on our brief but adventurous careers as private investigators.  One was a leather razor strop, old and stiff from disuse, and the other a wet bath sponge, now stained with blood to a yellowish brown.