And the raised voice was his official voice, so different that all the heads at the bridge table turned to him, and Anne Meredith's hand remained poised over an ace of spades in the dummy.
"I'm sorry to tell you all," he said, "that our host, Mr. Shaitana, is dead."
Mrs. Lorrimer and Doctor Roberts rose to their feet. Despard stared and frowned.
Anne Meredith gave a little gasp.
"Are you sure, man?"
Doctor Roberts, his professional instincts aroused, came briskly across the floor with a bounding medical "in at the death" step.
Without seeming to, the bulk of Superintendent Battle impeded his progress.
"Just a minute, Doctor Roberts.
Can you tell me first who's been in and out of this room this evening?"
Roberts stared at him.
"In and out?
I don't understand you.
Nobody has."
The superintendent transferred his gaze.
"Is that right, Mrs. Lorrimer?"
"Quite right."
"Not the butler nor any of the servants?"
"No.
The butler brought in that tray as we sat down to bridge.
He has not been in since."
Superintendent Battle looked at Despard.
Despard nodded in agreement.
Anne said rather breathlessly, "Yes - yes, that's right."
"What's all this, man," said Roberts impatiently. "Just let me examine him - may be just a fainting fit."
"It isn't a fainting fit, and I'm sorry - but nobody's going to touch him until the divisional surgeon comes.
Mr. Shaitana's been murdered, ladies and gentlemen."
"Murdered?" A horrified incredulous sigh from Anne.
"Good God!" from Doctor Roberts.
Superintendent Battle nodded his head slowly.
He looked rather like a Chinese porcelain mandarin.
His expression was quite blank.
"Stabbed," he said. "That's the way of it.
Stabbed." Then he shot out a question. "Any of you leave the bridge table during the evening?"
He saw four expressions break up - waver.
He saw fear - comprehension - indignation - dismay - horror, but he saw nothing definitely helpful.
"Well?"
There was a pause and then Major Despard said quietly, he had risen now and was standing like a soldier on parade, his narrow intelligent face turned to Battle,
"I think every one of us, at one time, or another, moved from the bridge table - either to get drinks or to put wood on the fire.
I did both.
When I went to the fire Shaitana was asleep in his chair."
"Asleep?"
"I thought so - yes."
"He may have been," said Battle. "Or he may have been dead then.
We'll go into that presently.
I'll ask you now to go into the room, next door." He turned to the quiet figure at his elbow. "Colonel Race, perhaps you'll go with them?"
Race gave a quick nod of comprehension.
"Right, Superintendent."
The four bridge players went slowly through the doorway.
Mrs. Oliver sat down in a chair at the far end of the room and began to sob quietly.
Battle took up the telephone receiver and spoke. Then he said,