And when, some hours later, the sun rose on the same chill scene its rays made no perceptible impression on the cold and the mercury stayed down at its lowest winter record.
And so even the stolid Japanese Ito, shivered, and his yellow teeth chattered as he knocked at Mrs. Peyton’s door in the early dawn of Monday morning.
“What is it?” she cried, springing from her bed to unbolt her door.
“Grave news, madam,” and the Oriental bowed before her.
“What has happened? Tell me, Ito.”
“I am not sure, madam—but, the master—”
“Yes, what about Doctor Waring?”
“He is—he is asleep in his study.”
“Asleep in his study! Ito, what do you mean?”
“That, madam. His bed is unslept in. His room door ajar. I looked in the study—through from the dining-room—he is there by his desk—”