Matthews removed the covering and the three men gazed at the set
face of the dead man. There was a clean bullet wound in the right
temple. Matthews showed the papers he had taken off the body and
exchanged a few, words in a low tone with Francis. There is
something about the presence of death which impels respect
whatever the circumstances.
Five minutes later Mrs. Butterworth came out of the bar. In her
hands she held a miscellaneous assortment of articles, a small
gold chain purse, a pair of gloves, a gold cigarette case, a tiny
handkerchief, and a long blue envelope. She put all the articles
down on the tables save the envelope which she handed to Francis.
"This was in the lining of her overcoat, sir," she said.
Francis took the envelope and broke the seal. He drew out half a
dozen sheets of thin paper, folded lengthwise. Leisurely he
unfolded them, but he had hardly glanced at the topmost sheet
than he turned to the next and the next until he had run through
the whole bunch. Desmond, peering over his shoulder, caught a
glimpse of rows of figures, very neatly set out in a round hand
and knew that he was looking at a message in cipher code.
The door at the end of the tap-room was flung open and a soldier
came in quickly.
He stopped irresolute on seeing the group.
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