CHAPTER XXIX
Ethics of Killing
They swung out from Scotland Yard into Whitehall.
"What has happened?" the inspector asked.
Monsieur Dupont leant forward, controlling his excitement with an effort.
"Mon Dieu," he said, "I wish I knew!"
He took the telegram from his pocket.
"It is an hour only that I have returned from Richmond. I found the house of George Copplestone in course of transformation. I found all the windows open. I found men and women cleaning—painting—making new. I found a hundred men ... making the crooked garden straight."
"Well?" said the inspector—"why not?"