There was a taxi standing outside the stage door. I don't know how it
happened to be there, or who had ordered it, but I shouted to the driver
and jumped in. I have a faint impression that just as the engine started
Sylvia appeared at the door, with a cloak thrown over her stage gown,
and cried something, but I am not sure.
When I got to the hotel, the door of the room next to mine was locked,
but the house detective got it open without any noise. There were two
men in the room. In the far corner lay Fagan, unconscious, with a broken
jaw, one arm hideously twisted under him, and a shattered water bottle
beside his bloody head. Sprawled against the bed, kneeling, with his
arms flung out across the counterpane, was Edwards.--The doctor said it
was heart disease. He had been dead since six o'clock.