re was a mark of powder near the face.
"A very bad business, Mr. Glover," said the police officer seriously.
"Can you account for this man being here?"
"He came to get married," said Jack listlessly. "I dare say that
startles you, but it is the fact. He was married less than ten minutes
ago. If you will come up to the house I will explain his presence here."
The detective hesitated, but just then another of his comrades came on
the scene, and Jack led the way back to the house through a back door
into Rennett's study.
The lawyer was waiting for them, and he was alone.
"If I'm not very much mistaken, you're Inspector Colhead, of Scotland
Yard," said Glover.
"That is my name," nodded the officer. "Between ourselves, Mr. Glover, I
don't think I should make any statement which you are not prepared to
verify publicly."
Jack noted the significance of the warning with a little smile, and
proceeded to tell the story of the wedding.
"I can only tell you," he said in answer to a further inquiry, "that Mr.
Meredith came into this house at a quarter to eight this morning, and
surrendered himself to my partner. At eight o'clock exactly, as you are
well aware, Mr. Rennett telephoned to Scotland Yard to say that Mr.
Meredith was here. During the period of his waiting he was married."
"Did a parson happen to be staying here, sir?" asked the police officer
sarcastically.
"He happened to be staying here," said Jack calmly, "because I had
arranged for him to be here. I knew that if it was humanly possible, Mr.
Meredith would come to this house, and that his desire was to be
married, for reasons which my partner will explain."
"Did you help him to escape? That is asking you a leading question,"
smiled the detective.
Jack shook his head.
"I can answer you with perfect truth that I did not, any more than the
Home Secretary helped him when he gave him permission to go to a nursing
home."
Soon after the detective returned to the shed, and Jack and his partner
were left alone.
"Well?" said Rennett, in a shaking voice, "what happened?"
"He's dead," said Jack quietly.
"Suicide?"
Jack looked at him oddly.
"Did Bulford commit suicide?" he asked.
"Where is the angel?"
"I left her in the drawing-room with Mrs. Rennett and Miss Beale."
"Mrs. Meredith," corrected Jack quietly.
"This complicates matters," said Rennett, "but I think we can get out of
our share of the trouble, though it is going to loo
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