"Yes, at three o'clock this morning, and brought here by the police. But he was dead, and had been dead for at least half an hour. I could do nothing."
"How horrible—how very horrible!" murmured Alexia. "Did you say, sir, that he was an old man?"
"No; he is little more than a lad—a mere boy—nineteen or twenty at the most. A handsome lad too; I should fancy he was not English."
"Is there any clue as to who did it?" questioned the governess.
"Not that I know of yet. The police have had no time to work, you see," he reminded her gently.
"Ah, yes; I was forgetting, sir! Have they taken it away?"
"From here? Not yet. It must be removed to the mortuary to await the inquest, of course." He hesitated, and then added, in a voice which, in spite of all his efforts, was almost tender, "You are not afraid of its being here, are you?"
"Afraid!" A smile, as curious as fleeting, parted the beautiful lips of
Alexia Boucheafen. "No, I am not afraid. I asked, because—— Sir, may
I see it?"
"See it?" George Brudenell was so startled and shocked that he doubted if he had heard aright. "Surely, Mademoiselle, you do not mean what you say?"
"Yes—if I may." She spoke quite steadily and coldly. "I should like to see him—this poor murdered boy, if I may. I have never seen death, and I should like to know how it looks to be stabbed to the heart."