“Mickleby ought to be putting in an appearance soon, if Leake managed to get hold of him,” said the Colonel, as he and Cyril walked round to the front of the house after leaving the garage. “Ah, there he comes in the Ford. We’d better wait for him here.”
Almost immediately the doctor drove up, followed by Leake on his motor-cycle. Colonel Sanderstead went forward.
“’Morning, Mickleby. Nasty business for you here, I’m sorry to say. Hubbard’s been murdered, apparently; and we want you to look into the matter from the medical point of view. There’ll have to be an inquest, of course, and they’re sure to want expert evidence.”
Dr. Mickleby was a taciturn young man with a faint air of pomposity which impressed his village patients. He nodded gravely at intervals during the Colonel’s expositio
