"Hadn't we better lift him on that sofa?" suggested Lauriston.
"Not till our people and the police-surgeon have seen him," answered
Ayscough, shaking his head. "I want to know all about this--he may have
died a natural death--a seizure of some sort--and again, he mayn't--
They'll be here in a minute."
Lauriston presently found himself a passive spectator while a police-
inspector, another man in plain clothes, and the doctor examined the body,
after hearing Ayscough's account of what had just happened. He was aware
that he was regarded with suspicion--the inspector somewhat brusquely bade
him stay where he was: it would, indeed, have been impossible to leave,
for there was a policeman at the door, in which, by his superior's orders,
he had turned the key. And there was a general, uncomfortable sort of
silence in the place while the doctor busied himself about the body.
"This man has been assaulted!" said the doctor, suddenly turning to the
inspector. "Look here!--he's not only been violently gripped by the right
arm--look at that bruise--but taken savagely by the throat. There's no
doubt of that.
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