He was alone, hatless and without his boots, and he held a wicked-looking French-made duelling pistol, covered in silver and gold— property no doubt, was Melusine’s fleeting thought, of the late vicomte. There was nothing on her face to hint of the misery that brimmed her heart this morning. He needed to laugh, but only she laughed as he chuckled weakly. It depresses one, you know. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. ” “The inference is, then,” the detective said smoothly, “that this man obtained admission to your rooms by means of a false key, that he burnt some papers here and shot himself within a few moments of your return.
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