THE MYSTERIOUS AFFAIR AT STYLES
stairs. Dr. Wilkins was looking important and excited, and trying to conceal an inward exultation under a manner of decorous calm. Dr. Bauerstein remained in the background, his grave bearded face unchanged. Dr. Wilkins was the spokesman for the two. He addressed himself to John:
"Mr. Cavendish, I should like your consent to a post-mortem."
"Is that necessary?" asked John gravely. A spasm of pain crossed his face.
"Absolutely," said Dr. Bauerstein.
"You mean by that?"
"That neither Dr. Wilkins nor myself could give a death certificate under the circumstances."
John bent his head.
"In that case, I have no alternative but to agree."
"Thank you," said Dr. Wilkins briskly. "We propose that it should take place to-morrow night—or rather to-night." And he glanced at the daylight. "Under the circumstances, I am afraid an inquest can hardly be avoided—these formalities are necessary, but I beg that you won't distress yourselves."
There was a pause, and then Dr. Bauerstein drew two keys from his pocket, and handed them to John.
"These are the keys of the two rooms. I have
50
