“That is sufficient. Do you feel able to go back by yourself, or would you rather have someone to escort you?”
“I would rather be alone,” she murmured.
“Very well; then I need not keep you.” He looked away towards the outer door of the room, but the girl stood hesitating.
“Will it—shall you—the body?” she inquired in a broken voice.
“The body must be removed to my house first for me to ascertain the cause of death,” Tarleton said kindly. “After that I hope to arrange for it to be buried from your house privately. Meanwhile, the less you say to anyone the better.”
She bent her head gratefully, and I took her as far as the door of the studios, and saw her walk away. When I got back the Inspector was in the full flood of his report.
“I have never seen the Foreign Office more upset about anything,” he was saying. “And the Slavonian Embassy is in a regular turmoil. It appears that the Ambassador had no idea of where His Royal Highness was last night. He slipped out quietly without saying anything, with the Chancellor of Legation, Baron Novara. Baron Novara is a member of the Domino Club; he has always looked on it as a perfectly reputable place, a fashionable resort—in fact, like Hurlingham or the Prince’s skating-rink; and he had no idea that he was risking anything in bringing the Crown Prince here. At least so he says. The Ambassador is furious and has ordered him to go home by to-night’s express and explain matters to the King, if he can.”
My chief listened to the excited Charles with a good deal of indifference, I thought.
“The sum and substance of it all is that they want the affair hushed up, I suppose?”
I listened for the Inspector’s answer with an eagerness which I did my very best to hide. I am not sure that I did hide the relief with which I heard it.