‘All right,’ I said sharply. ‘You can’t do anything.’
She spun round, her face white and her eyes glazed with, horror, to stare at me. She started to scream, raised her hands as if to push me away, then her eyes rolled back and she fell into my arms in a faint.
I lowered her gently to the floor, bent over the dead man. A .38 Colt automatic lay on the bed by his right hand. Smoke still drifted from the barrel. There was a fixed, grinning look of terror on his face, and I could see the powder burns on his skin.
‘What’s happened?’
I turned.
Wadlock, in a faded red dressing-gown, his hair standing on ends, stood in the doorway.
‘He’s shot himself,’ I said curtly. ‘Let’s get Mrs. Dedrick out of here.’
I bent over her, lifted her and carried her out of the room.
Wadlock stood aside, his old grey face twitching.
I carried Serena down the stairs and into the lounge and laid her on the settee.