"Bless my soul!" cried I. "Now you speak of it, I did hear something like a pistol shot; but that must have been half-an-hour ago."
"It's a wonder," she said tragically, "his blood didn't drip on you through the ceiling."
It was useless (she agreed with me) to expect Mr. Addison to attend to my business that night. Indeed, though he was doubtless somewhere in the crowd, she could not recall having seen him. It would also be useless, and worse, to seek an interview with Susie, who was attending to her poor mistress.
"Very well," I said. "Then since I can see neither the parson nor the girl, I must make shift with the lawyer. No, my dear, you need not stare at me like that, I don't put my money on my back, like some of your gentry; but while I keep enough in my pocket there's no law in England against my employing as good an attorney as poor Mr. Carthew—or, if I choose, the very same man."
"What? Mr. Retallack?"
I nodded. "That's it—Mr. Retallack. I take it he came to attend the auction, and is upstairs at this moment."
"Why, yes; it was he that gave orders to break in the door and found the body. He began putting questions to Mrs. Carthew, but the poor soul wasn't fit to answer. And then he and Mr. James tackled Susie, who swore she knew nothing of the business until she heard the shot—as we all did—and, running out, found her mistress stretched in the passage: and now she's attending to her in the bedroom with the doctor. So the lawyer's at a standstill."
"Mr. James Carthew? Is he here too?"
"Yes: he's living at his town house this week, but he came here to-night—for the sale, I suppose. He's upstairs now, and his wife along with him; she heard the news cried up the street and came running down all agog with her bonnet on top of her nightcap. But I mustn't stay talking."