“Well?” asked Miss Gregg.
“He was murdered!” pronounced the chief, portentously.
“You amaze me,” said the old lady. “But then, of course, you have the trained police mentality. By whom?”
“That is what we intend to find out,” answered the chief, tartly. “Where’s the phone? I want to send for a couple of my men. When I’ve done that I want to ask a few questions.”
“We may as well go back into the living room and sit down,” suggested Doris. “It’s chilly out here.”
But as the rest were following her suggestion she took occasion to slip back into the hall whither Vail was returning after showing Quimby where to find the telephone.
“Thax!” she whispered hurriedly. “I’m so sorry I was cross! I spoke abominably to you. Won’t you please forgive me? You know perfectly well I didn’t mean a word of the nasty things I said.”
“I know,” he said soothingly. “I know. Don’t think any more about it. It’s all right. I—”
“And, Thax,” she went on, thrilling oddly as his hand clasped hers, “I did what you asked me to, after all. I took the pistol upstairs with me. I hid it under the scarf I was carrying, and I smuggled it up there. I wanted you to know—”
“They’ll be here in ten minutes now,” interrupted the chief, returning from the telephone.