"Certain discoveries have already been made which it would be premature here to refer to. The affair is in the hands of the police, who are confident they will succeed in bringing the murderer to justice."
Aunt Leth listened to the account of the murder with a feeling of unutterable horror. Quiet and observant, Mr. Beeminster carefully folded the newspaper and put it into his pocket, saying as he did so:
"The 'certain discoveries' to which the newspaper reporter says it would be premature to refer are Miss Farebrother's brooch and veil which were picked up in the grounds."
"Gracious God!" cried Aunt Leth, with a pallid face and horror-struck eyes. "You do not—you cannot suspect—"
"Best to say as little as possible," said Mr. Beeminster, rising.
"You brought a companion in with you," said Aunt Leth. "What was it you whispered to him, and why did he go away?"
Mr. Beeminster was standing near the window, which faced the street. He looked out, and Aunt Leth's eyes followed the direction of his. The man she referred to was on the opposite side of the road, strolling a few steps leisurely this way and that, but never too far to lose a clear view of the house upon which his eyes were fixed.
"Have you placed him there to watch us?" asked Aunt Leth, faintly. "And for what reason?"
"A murder has been committed," replied Mr. Beeminster. "Miss Farebrother will most likely be served with a notice to attend the inquest to-morrow."
"It will kill her! it will kill her!" cried Aunt Leth.