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Updated: May 2, 2025
As he reached the door, he hesitated and glanced around towards Wingate. "Mr. Wingate," he said, "I wish to hear what the doctor has to say concerning Lord Dredlinton's death, but I also wish to have another word with you before you leave the house. Can I rely upon your waiting here for me?" "I give you my word," Wingate promised.
"But, dash it all," he expostulated, "there are other directors! I am one myself. Don't you see how serious this all is? If Rees can be spirited away and no one be able to lift up a finger to help him, what about the rest of us?" "It was in my mind to warn your lordship," Shields observed. Dredlinton's fear merged into fury, a blind and nerveless passion.
I suppose it was the fatal mistake so many good women make the reformer's passion. Dredlinton's rotten to the core, though. No one could reform him, could even influence him to good to any extent. He's such a wrong 'un, to tell you the truth, that I'm surprised Phipps put him on the Board. His name is long past doing any one any good."
He had entered in response to Lord Dredlinton's ring, with the perfect silence and promptitude of the best of his class. His master stared at him for a moment uneasily. The man's appearance, grave and respectable though he was, seemed to have startled him. "Show the inspector out," he directed. "Good night, Mr. Shields." The man bowed to Josephine. "Good night, my lord!"
There was an ugly curl upon Dredlinton's lips. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Then his truculent attitude suddenly vanished without the slightest warning. He became an entirely altered person. "Look here, Wingate," he confessed, "on thinking it over, I believe I've been making rather an idiot of myself.
"I mean that I was and am entirely responsible for it." Dredlinton's cigar fell from his fingers. For the moment he forgot to pick it up. Then he stooped and with shaking fingers threw it into the grate. When he confronted Wingate again, his face was deadly pale. He seemed, indeed, on the point of collapse. "Why have you done this?" he faltered.
This room looks out, as you know, upon a courtyard. The street is on the other side of the house. Every person under this roof is in my employ. There is no earthly chance of your being heard by any one. Still, if it pleases you to shout, shout! Now, Grant!" The man unfastened the gags, first Phipps', then Rees', and finally Dredlinton's.
Lord Dredlinton started eagerly. "That's the fellow from Scotland Yard, I hope," he said. "Promised to come round to-night. Perhaps they've news of Stanley." The door was thrown open, and the new butler ushered in a tall, thin man dressed in morning clothes of somewhat severe cut. "Inspector Shields, my lord," he announced. Lord Dredlinton's impatience was almost feverish.
"I do not know much about champagne, but it seems to me that this has not been opened very long. By the by, you all drank champagne?" he went on. "I see no trace of any spirits about." "It was one of Lord Dredlinton's hobbles," Wingate declared. "Spirits are very seldom served in this house." The Inspector nodded.
The inspector bent down and examined Lord Dredlinton's body. "The doctor is on his way here," Wingate continued. "He will inform us, no doubt, as to the cause of death. Lord Dredlinton looked very exhausted many times during the night or rather the morning " "I am to understand," Shields interrupted quietly, "that, overjoyed by the return of his friends, Lord Dredlinton, Mr. Phipps, Mr.
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