"Found dead in his bed! Strangled! We must keep it from them at home, Dick."
"Impossible, uncle. Listen--there's another boy shouting it out. Let's get back to the house."
They read as they walked, Uncle Rob holding the paper, and Dick looking over his shoulder.
"What is it--what is it?" cried Aunt Rob, meeting them in the passage.
"If it's true, it's murder," said Uncle Rob. "Come into the room, and shut the door. Speak low. Is Florence upstairs?"
"Yes. Wait a minute." She stepped softly to the room above, and quickly returned. "Reginald is dozing, and Florence has fallen asleep in her chair. The poor child is tired out. Murder! Where? In Catchpole Square?"
"Yes."
"Reginald's father?"
"Yes." She uttered a cry of horror. "I must go to the office at once."
"Dick! You're not going, too?"