room, glancing for the moment at Anthony, who was still standing near his mother with an expression on his face which I could not understand—it was a mixture of fear and fright, and yet somehow he had not the crushed look of a guilty man.
We conducted the officer to the tower-room, and the horrible scene.
Dr. Lathome then pointed out to the police the attitude of the body, and also showed two very dark livid marks, one on each side of the dead man's throat—thumb marks apparently, he said.
The sergeant's eyebrows lifted. "Violence," he commented.
"It looks like it," said the surgeon, "but we must have some further medical help."
"And official," chimed in the officer. "We had better send at once." And he gave the constable some instructions.
On the following day an inquest on the body of Lieutenant Laurence was held, and at the end of it Anthony Laurence, my friend and host, was arrested for the murder of his half-brother.
The evidence was stronger than I had imagined. It was proved that the two young men had quarrelled. Roberts was positive as
