“It's John Lexman speaking.”
“I shouldn't have recognized your voice,” said T. X., “what is wrong with you, John, can't you get your plot to went?”
“I want you to come down here at once,” said the voice urgently, and even over the telephone T. X. recognized the distress. “I have shot a man, killed him!”
T. X. gasped.
“Good Lord,” he said, “you are a silly ass!”
CHAPTER III
In the early hours of the morning a tragic little party was assembled in the study at Beston Priory. John Lexman, white and haggard, sat on the sofa with his wife by his side. Immediate authority as represented by a village constable was on duty in the passage outside, whilst T. X. sitting at the table with a writing pad and a pencil was briefly noting the evidence.
The author had sketched the events of the day. He had described his interview with the money-lender the day before and the arrival of the letter.
“You have the letter!” asked T. X.