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"He was putting his key in the door when I drove off." "He must have come in," said Kitteridge, pointing to the tray. "He had something after he got in." "Well, go and tell the servants not to talk, Kitteridge," said Peggie. "My uncle, no doubt, had reasons for going out again. Have you said anything to Mr. Tertius?" "Mr. Tertius isn't down yet, miss," answered the butler.
He said 'Good night, and I saw him walk up the steps and put his key in the latch as I drove off to our stables. And that's all I know about it." Selwood turned to the butler. "I suppose no one was up at that time?" he inquired. "Nobody, sir," answered Kitteridge. "There never is. Mr.
Tertius who took the first steps towards immediate action. Even as he spoke, Peggie was summoning the butler, and her orders were clear and precise. "Kitteridge," she said quietly, "order Robson to bring the car round at once as quickly as possible. In the meantime, send some coffee into the breakfast-room breakfast itself must wait until we return. Make haste, Kitteridge."
"Does she know?" "She may have heard from her maid, sir," replied Kitteridge in low tones. "Of course they're all talking of it. I was going to ask to see Miss Wynne as soon as she was dressed." By that time the girl had advanced towards the three men, and Selwood stepped forward to meet her.
He dressed hurriedly, and ran off to Herapath's house; there in the hall, near the door of a room which Herapath used as a study and business room, he found Kitteridge talking to Mountain, Herapath's coachman, who, judging by the state of his attire, had also been called hurriedly from his bed. "What is it, Kitteridge?" demanded Selwood. "Mr. Herapath ill?"
So they lay about on the grass in the shade of the big elm, languidly discussing their various wrongs and disappointments. "It's the meanest Fourth I ever saw. Can't have no crackers, because somebody's horse got scared last year," growled Sam Kitteridge, bitterly resenting the stern edict which forbade free-born citizens to burn as much gunpowder as they liked on that glorious day.
Like Bathurst I thought one of the others took it." "And you, Kitteridge?" "I did not take it, sir." "You surely have it, Johnson?" "No, sir, I was under the impression that you had taken it away with you." "And you, McCurdy?" McCurdy shook his head. "Then Kenton, as you were the last to rise, you certainly have it."
Two women in the garb of professional nurses came quietly, and passed into the room where Herapath lay dead. A man arrayed in dismal black came after them, summoned by the police who were busy at the telephone as soon as Selwood had finished with it. Selwood himself, having summoned Kitteridge and Mountain, hung about, waiting.
"Just so," assented Barthorpe. "A rough notion that's it. Well, Kitteridge, it's your turn. Who found out that Mr. Herapath wasn't in the house this morning?" "Charlesworth, sir Mr. Herapath's valet," replied the butler. "He always called Mr. Herapath at a quarter past seven every morning. When he went into the bedroom this morning Mr. Herapath wasn't there, and the bed hadn't been slept in.
Burchill desired me to present his most respectful sympathy, and to say that if he could be of any service to you or to the family, he begged that you would command him. His address is on this card, miss." "Very kind of him," murmured Peggie, and laid the card aside on her writing-table. When Kitteridge had gone she picked it up and looked at it again.
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