“Why?” asked O’Brien, with interest.
“And the next question?” asked Father Brown.
“Well, why didn’t the man cry out or anything?” asked the doctor; “sabres in gardens are certainly unusual.”
“Twigs,” said the priest gloomily, and turned to the window which looked on the scene of death. “No one saw the point of the twigs. Why should they lie on that lawn (look at it) so far from any tree? They were not snapped off; they were chopped off. The murderer occupied his enemy with some tricks with the sabre, showing how he could cut a branch in mid-air, or what-not. Then, while his enemy bent down to see the result, a silent s***h, and the head fell.”
“Well,” said the doctor slowly, “that seems plausible enough. But my next two questions will stump anyone.”
The priest still stood looking crit
