“Even in the case of a suicide?” Jefferson asked doubtfully.
“In any case, surely.”
“I shouldn’t have thought it would have mattered in this case,” said Jefferson, a little reluctantly. “Still, perhaps you’re right. Not that it matters either way,” he added quickly.
There was a tap on the half-open door.
“I’ve telephoned to Doctor Matthewson and the police,” came Lady Stanworth’s even tones. “They’re sending an inspector over from Elchester at once. And now don’t you think we ought to tell the others in the dining room?”
“I think so certainly,” said Roger, who happened to be nearest to the door. “There’s no sense in delaying it. Besides, if we tell them now it will give them time to get over it a little before the police come.”
“Quite so,” said Jefferson. “And the servants as well. Graves, you’d better go and break the news in the kitchen. Be as tactful as you can.”
“Very good, sir.”
With a last, but quite expressionless glance at his late master, the burly figure turned and walked slowly out of the room.
“I’ve seen people more cut up at the death of a man they’ve lived with for twenty years than that gentleman,” Roger murmured in Alec’s ear, raising his eyebrows significantly.