By Jove, that's it!" Mr. Ford cried, and plunged out.
The Inspector and the Superintendent exchanged glances and looked at Gordon.
"Why did you put him on to that, sir?" said the Superintendent.
"Professional feeling, dear boy," Gordon smiled. "Nice girl, ain't it? I fancy my firm are Miss Bolton's executors, and I fancy that bird is sole legatee."
The Superintendent pursed his lips. The Inspector laughed. "It grows, don't it, sir? Just grows," he said.
"I would like to get on," Reggie yawned.
"That's right," said the Superintendent, and took the Inspector aside.
Mr. Gordon, following Reggie to the boudoir, was distressed by the sight of the dead body, and said so. Reggie went on with his photography—first the stab in the throat, then the minor wounds, then the bruise on the shoulder. At which last Inspector Mordan found him.
"Taking the wrong side, aren't you?" he sneered.
"Oh, I'm taking all sides. Ever try it?" Reggie said.
"Well, have you done, doctor?" the little Jew broke in. "Can't we have her covered up?"
"I'll have the body removed, sir. If the doctor has quite done." said the Inspector.
