Edgar Jepson

“ Sprawled across the middle of the room, in the glare of the electric light, lay the great gray bulk of a statue; and underneath it, at right angles to it, lay the body of a woman, Helen Ranger. In the corner opposite the door lay the rich man, a huddled heap. The room smelt like a goat-pen. ”

“ I said, turning to Marks.
"Murthwaite?" he said, looking at me oddly. "He was a big man, you know—a big man."
"Look here, for a man to do this kind of thing without hurting himself, he must be drunk. Yet Murthwaite was sober enough when he came. His voice was clear when he spoke to Woodfell," I said.
"There are more kinds of drunkenness than one. He may have been inspired—possessed—frenzied," said Marks. ”

“ I rose and faced Marks: "What are we to do?" I said.
"We must let his friends know at once," said Marks. "I suppose there will have to be an inquest and a scandal."
"There will have to be an inquest on Helen Ranger. But about this man, I don't know. I heard Woodfell say that he was a millionaire," I said thoughtfully.
"He is. He's Edward Murthwaite, head of the firm of Murthwaite, Carroll, and Murthwaite," said Marks. ”