"Why!" gasped Beck, recognising the cold, drawn features by the light of
the match he struck. "It's Dudley! Run back to the house and get
assistance quickly. I'll remain here. Life may not be extinct after
all, poor fellow!" At this suggestion I sprang up, and dashing away
along the drive, burst into the drawing-room from the lawn.
"Geoffrey!" cried Mrs Laing, starting up quickly from a cosy-corner
wherein she had settled to read. "What has happened? You look scared."
"A very painful thing has occurred," I gasped breathlessly, striving to
preserve a calm demeanour. "We have found poor Dudley lying in the
drive yonder. He's dead!"
"Dead!" she screamed hysterically. "Dudley dead!"
"Yes, alas!" I replied. "Beck is with him, awaiting assistance."
"I can't believe it," she cried, clutching at a chair for support. Her
face was ashen pale, and her bejewelled hands trembled violently. "Poor
Dudley! If he is dead, it is certain that he has been the victim of
foul play," she added mechanically, in a low tone. Then suddenly
recovering herself, she inquired the circumstances in which we had found
him.
"I will explain later," I cried impatiently. "May I ring for the
servants?"
"No," she cried, starting forward with a strange, wild look. "Return to
him, and leave all to me. For the present the truth must be kept from
Ella. There are reasons why my daughter should not know of this tragic
affair until to-morrow. As you are aware, she is weak and unstrung
to-night, and has already gone to her room. I fear that any sudden
shock may prove extremely detrimental to her, and I therefore trust you
will respect my wishes."
"Certainly," I answered. "But we are not yet convinced that life is
extinct, so while you arrange for his removal here, I'll go at once for
a doctor."
"Yes, do. Dr Allenby is nearest. The first house over the bridge," she
replied hastily, and as she rang the bell I sprang out again upon the
lawn and rushed away along the drive.
Beck was still kneeling beside the prostrate man, supporting his head
upon his knee, and approaching, I asked whether he had detected any
signs of respiration.
"None whatever," he answered. "I'm afraid, poor fellow, he has gone."
Briefly I explained my errand and rushed off for medical assistance,
returning to "The Nook" with the grey-haired practitioner a quarter of
an hour later. We found Dudley lying in the drawing-room on the large
couch of yellow silk, with Beck and Mrs Laing standing calmly on either
side. In Mrs Laing's eyes were traces of tears. The doctor, after a
brief examination, shook his head gravely, saying,--
"Life has, unfortunately, been extinct for fully an hour."
"What is the cause of death?" inquired Mrs Laing, eagerly.
"I have not yet examined the body, but there are no marks of violence
whatever, as far as I can observe. At the _post-mortem_ we may be able
to discover something."
She drew a deep breath. I chanced at that moment to glance at her, and
was surprised to observe an unmistakable look of terror flit for a brief
instant across her haggard countenance. It seemed as though the
doctor's hope of determining the cause of death had aroused within her a
sudden apprehension. Dr Allenby, however, suggested, in polite terms,
that she should leave the room, as he desired to examine the body, and
she reluctantly consented, exclaiming, as she moved slowly out,--
"I would have given worlds to have avoided all this. One's name will be
bruited about in the papers; and there will be an inquest, I suppose,
and all that sort of thing. And dear Ella--what a terrible blow it will
be to her!" Then, when the door had closed, while I stood gazing upon
my intimate friend who, only an hour before, had been so full of life's
enjoyment, buoyant spirits and _bonhomie_, surprised at Mrs Laing's
extraordinary manner, and reflecting upon her sudden strange demeanour,
the doctor, assisted by Beck, began a minute and careful examination.
In a quarter of an hour, they satisfied themselves that no violence had
been used, and just as they concluded, the police, who had been sent
for, arrived. The local sub-divisional inspector, tall, red-faced, and
inclined to obesity, a plain-clothes constable, and a sergeant in
uniform, who entered the drawing-room, were at once informed of the
mysterious circumstances in which the body had been discovered. The
inspector scribbled some brief notes, took the names and addresses of
all of us, remarking with politeness that we should be compelled to
attend the inquest.
Afterwards, the body was removed to the billiard-room and the
plain-clothes constable left in charge of it, while, with Beck and Dr
Allenby, I entered the dining-room where Mrs Laing, pale, agitated and
nervous, was eagerly awaiting us. The arrival of the police in her
house had apparently filled her with dread, for almost the first
question she asked me was,--
"Have they gone? Have they gone?"
"They have left one officer on duty to prevent the body being touched,"
I answered.
"Then the police are absolutely in possession of my house! Will they
search it?" she inquired hoarsely.
"Search it! Certainly not," I answered. "Of course, if foul play were
suspected, they might. Otherwise they have no power without a
search-warrant properly signed by a magistrate."
"But no violence is suspected," she exclaimed in a half whisper,
glancing over to where the doctor and Beck were standing in earnest
conversation. "I shall therefore be spared the indignity of having my
house searched, sha'n't I?"
"I trust so, Mrs Laing," I replied. "But it is not such a dreadful
ordeal, after all, to have one's place rummaged."
"No, perhaps not," she answered thoughtfully; then, smiling, she added,
"Perhaps I am foolish to regret that this terrible affair has occurred
at my very door. Poor Dudley has died suddenly, and it is only right
that I, his intimate friend, should do what I can to ensure the last
rite being carried out in decency. But the very thought of the police
unnerves me! and I fear, too, on Ella's account. Only yesterday Dr
Allenby told her that she must carefully avoid any shock."
"But she must know the truth to-morrow," I observed.
"Will you break the dreadful news to her?" she urged. "As her
betrothed, you, perhaps, can tell her better than anyone else."
"Unfortunately I shall be unable," I said. "This evening I received a
very urgent telegram which recalls me to town, and having now lost my
last train, I must go by the 6:30 in the morning. I cannot get back
before late in the evening, or it may be next day. But as soon as
possible I will return straight here, and render you whatever assistance
is in my power."
"Thanks. But is your business so very urgent?" she asked.
"Of greatest importance. Poor Dudley's tragic end has delayed me, and
even this brief delay may be of most serious consequence."
"Ah! you men in the Foreign Office are always full of deep schemes and
clever diplomacy," she smiled, toying with her mass of rings.