“Will you come along? I’ll have time to dress.”
Stella was dressed by the time they arrived, and too curious and too alarmed to make the hour of the call a matter of comment.
“What is the trouble?” she asked.
“Mr. Foss is dead.”
“Dead?” She opened her eyes wide. “Why, I only saw him yesterday. But how?”
“He has been murdered,” said Michael quietly. “His head has been found on Chobham Common.”
She would have fallen to the floor, had not Michael’s arm been there to support her, and it was some time before she recovered sufficiently to answer coherently the questions which were put to her.
“No, I didn’t see Mr. Foss again after he left the Towers, and then I only saw him for a few seconds.”
“Did he suggest he was coming back again?”
She shook her head.