“Did you touch her?”
“Yes; and I saw at once she was not living, but Miss Morton said perhaps she might be, and then she telephoned for Doctor Hills.”
“Can you tell me if the house is carefully locked at night?”
“It is, I am sure; but it is not in my province to attend to it.”
“Whose duty is it?”
“That of Harris, the butler.”
“Will you please call Harris at once?” Mr. Benson’s tone of finality seemed to dismiss Mrs. Markham as a witness, and she rang the bell for the butler.
Harris came in, a perfect specimen of that type of butler that is so similar to a certain type of bishop.
Aside from the gravity of the occasion, he seemed to show a separate gravity of position, of importance, and of all-embracing knowledge.
“Your name is Harris?” said Mr. Benson.