And then I wondered if I'd better go home myself. Not for my own sake, in any way; indeed, I preferred to remain, but I thought of Aunt Lucy and Win. Ought I to bring on them any shadow of trouble or opprobrium that might result from my presence in that house at that time? Would it not be better to go while I could do so? For, once the police took charge, I knew I should be called on to testify in public. And even as I debated with myself, the police arrived.
CHAPTER III
THE WAITER'S STORY
Doctor Remson's police call had been imperative, and Inspector Mason came in with two men.
"What's this? What's wrong here?" the big burly inspector said, as he faced the few of us who had remained.
"Come in here, inspector," said the doctor, from the dining-room door.
And from that moment the whole aspect of the house seemed to change.
No longer a gay little bijou residence, it became a court of justice.
One of the men was stationed at the street door and one at the area door below. Headquarters was notified of details. The coroner was summoned, and we were all for the moment under detention.
"Where is Miss Van Allen? Where is the lady of the house?" asked
Mason. "Where are the servants? Who is in charge here?"
Was ever a string of questions so impossible of answers!