"I will explain the matter to you later.Meanwhile, since it is too late to prevent this tragedy, I am very anxious that Ishould use the knowledge which I possess in order to ensure that justice be done.Will you associate me in your investigation, or will you prefer that I should act independently?""I should be proud to feel that we were acting together, Mr.Holmes," said the inspector, earnestly.
"In that case I should be glad to hear the evidence and to examine the premises without an instant of unnecessary delay."Inspector Martin had the good sense to allow my friend to do things in his own fashion, and contented himself with carefully noting the results.The local surgeon, an old, white-haired man, had just come down from Mrs.Hilton Cubitt's room, and he reported that her injuries were serious, but not necessarily fatal.The bullet had passed through the front of her brain, and it would probably be some time before she could regain consciousness.On the question of whether she had been shot or had shot herself he would not venture to express any decided opinion.Certainly the bullet had been discharged at very close quarters.There was only the one pistol found in the room, two barrels of which had been emptied.Mr.Hilton Cubitt had been shot through the heart.It was equally conceivable that he had shot her and then himself, or that she had been the criminal, for the revolver lay upon the floor midway between them.
"Has he been moved?" asked Holmes.
"We have moved nothing except the lady.We could not leave her lying wounded upon the floor.""How long have you been here, doctor?"
"Since four o'clock."
"Anyone else?"
"Yes, the constable here."
"And you have touched nothing?"
"Nothing."
"You have acted with great discretion.Who sent for you?""The housemaid, Saunders."