Marc said to Robert in the dining-room of the Clarendon Hotel. “One of the workmen apparently. Found on the site this morning by the other workmen when they arrived.” “On the site? You mean the Parliament building?” “Yes. Bert Campion just passed the news along to me.” “An accident?” “Afraid not. It’s definitely murder. The fellow was pole-axed with a hammer. Died instantly.” “But what was the man doing out there after dark?” “I don’t know, but he was definitely killed overnight.” “Do you think I should offer to help out?” Robert thought about the matter. Marc had handled more than half a dozen murder investigations in the past five years, and had been very successful in aiding the Toronto police. But they were not in Toronto, and there were no municipal police as such here in Kingston, only the magistrate and two constables under his watch. “We need you here with us very much,” Robert said at last. Just then Bert Campion came into the room. “I’ve just been over at the magistrate’s,”
