“Did you knock before?” he asked. “I was writing——”
Then he saw her face.
“What has happened?” he demanded.
The girl told him, and he made his way downstairs slowly, as was his wont. He entered the drawing-room, switched on the lights, and without a glance at his wife walked to the window and examined the shattered pane.
“I imagined I heard a noise, but thought somebody had dropped something. When did this happen? Just before you came up?”
The girl nodded.
Maxell looked from one to the other. His wife was almost speechless with terror, and Mary Maxell alone was calm.
“It has come already,” he said musingly. “I did not think that this would happen so soon.”
He walked down to the hall where the telephone hung and rang through to the police station, and the girl heard all he said.
“Yes, it is Sir John Maxell speaking. A shot has just been fired through my window. No, not at me—I was in my study. Apparently a rifle shot. Yes, I was right——”