Through Bennett's brain went the words scribbled on the paper: "God bless you and keep you, Kate. Cheer-ho, old girl." Behind a blue-uniformed figure showed now a brown leather boot.
"It is another murder, I think," said Maurice, staring at the body, "that you need to concern yourself with. Lord Canifest… Yes, Thompson? Yes? What is it?"
For a second Thompson, who had almost run along the gallery, could not keep his eyes off the figure on the stretcher. His face was wrinkled up, and he opened and shut his hands spasmodically. Then, as Maurice's gentle satiric voice flowed smoothly on in asking the same question, he pulled himself together.
"Yes, sir. It was only… yes, sir. What I wished to tell you, there is a gentleman downstairs asking for Mr. Bennett. It's Sir Henry Merrivale, Mr. Maurice, and — “
Both Bennett and Masters whipped round. Through the former went suddenly a surge and exultation that was like a shout of triumph..
"— and another thing, sir…"
"Yes?"
Thompson quieted his breathing. His voice was clear when he said:
"Lord Canifest would like to speak with you on the telephone."