"Keep back!" Bohun shouted. He felt on the inside of the door, found a key, and locked it on the outside. Bennett saw that he was regaining all his old wiry coolness; that the mask was being adjusted, and that it was the public John Bohun who walked up the path. There was even a sort of hard malice in his face as they met Willard.
"You can't go in there, old man," he continued. "I dare say nobody can, until the police get here."
Willard stood motionless. For a second he hardly seemed to breathe. In the winter light there were many more wrinkles in his face: a face that would have been rugged if the hat had not concealed the jutting forehead and heavy grayish hair. The loose mouth, which was half open, closed slowly and tightly. His eyes, a curious shade of yellowish brown, never flickered, never wavered from Bohun's face.
"Yes, Marcia's dead," said Bohun, as though he were striking blows against this immobility. His shoulders hunched. "Dead as Babylon, dead as Charles the — yes. Her head's smashed in. Do you hear? Somebody murdered her, and nobody can go in there until the police get here."
"So that's it," said Willard, after a pause.
He looked at the ground for some time; as though he were tied there and helpless, and yet with his arms moving under a pain he could hardly stand. The dead immobility was even worse. He fumbled at putting his pipe back into his mouth. Then he began to speak rapidly: "I met your ostler or groom or somebody. He said something was wrong, but that you wouldn't let him come out. He said you were going riding.'
He looked up, very white.
"I hope she didn't die painfully, John. She was always afraid of that. Shall we go back to the house now? It was my fault. After that poison affair, I shouldn't have allowed her to sleep there. I didn't think she was in danger. But I shouldn't have allowed-"
"You!" Bohun observed softly. "Who are you to allow?' He walked little ahead, and then turned sharply. "Do you know what I'm going to do? I’m going to play detective. I'll find out who did it. Then?'
"Listen, John." Willard stumbled against a bush as they turned round to go, and caught Bohun's arm. `There's something I want to know. What is it like, in there? I mean what does it look like? How did she come to be dead-I can't make clear what I mean-"