When this spirit of the captain spoke in Valentin he was obeyed like a bugle. Dr. Simon went through to the armoury and routed out Ivan, the public detective' s private detective. Galloway went to the drawing-room and told the terrible news tactfully enough, so that by the time the company assembled there the ladies were already startled and already soothed. Meanwhile the good priest and the good atheist stood at the head and foot of the dead man motionless in the moonlight, like symbolic statues of their two philosophies of death.
Ivan, the confidential man with the scar and the moustaches, came out of the house like a cannon ball, and came racing across the lawn to Valentin like a dog to his master. His livid face was quite lively with the glow of this domestic detective story, and it was with almost unpleasant eagerness that he asked his master' s permission to examine the remains.
"Yes; look, if you like, Ivan, " said Valentin, "but don' t be long. We must go in and thrash this out in the house."
Ivan lifted the head, and then almost let it drop.
"Why, " he gasped, "it' s—no, it isn' t; it can' t be. Do you know this man, sir? "
"No, " said Valentin indifferently; "we had better go inside."
Between them they carried the corpse to a sofa in the study, and then all made their way to the drawing-room.
The detective sat down at a desk quietly, and even without hesitation; but his eye was the iron eye of a judge at assize. He made a few rapid notes upon paper in front of him, and then said shortly: "Is everybody here? "
"Not Mr. Brayne, " said the Duchess of Mont St. Michel, looking round.
"No, " said Lord Galloway in a hoarse, harsh voice. "And not Mr. Neil O' Brien, I fancy. I saw that gentleman walking in the garden when the corpse was still warm."
"Ivan, " said the detective, "go and fetch Commandant O' Brien and Mr. Brayne. Mr. Brayne, I know, is finishing a cigar in the dining-room; Commandant O' Brien, I think, is walking up and down the conservatory. I am not sure."