"Don't you?" his uncle asked, in return.
"I don't know what to think. Time will show."
"It will show a good many things. It's got to show what has become of Abel Death. I'm sorry for his wife and that poor little girl."
"I'm sorry for a good many people," said Dick. His uncle cast a hurried look at him. "I don't mean anything. My head's in a whirl."
"No wonder. There's another boy shouting the news. Run after him and get a paper."
They both raced, and bought two copies. The boy's face was beaming.
"He's happy enough," said Inspector Robson.
At the police station they learned that two constables had been sent to Catchpole Square to ascertain whether the news was true.
"I've given them instructions," said the day inspector, "if they can't get into the house by the front door, to scale the wall at the back. I can't say I like the way this case has been got up. Those newspaper men are getting too meddlesome altogether."
"But if it's true," suggested Inspector Robson.