"I think Miss Crane is perfect," retorted the Major with some asperity.
"So say I," echoed Gerald.
At that moment Miriam appeared at the door, pale, terrified, and scarcely able to articulate. Mrs. Darrow saw that something was wrong, and shrieked,
"My child! my child!—my precious Dicky! Is he ill?"
Miriam shook her head, and beckoned to Marsh.
"Come, doctor, quick—Mr. Barton!" she gasped, and everyone made a rush for the door.
On entering the library they found the window wide open, and poor little Dicky lying prone upon the floor. In the chair before his desk sat Barton, with his head embedded in his outstretched arms. With another shriek Mrs. Darrow fell on her knees beside her son. Dr. Marsh walked swiftly up to Barton and raised his head. He stepped back a pace in horror.
"Dead!" he said. "The man is dead!"
Again they raised the lifeless head. A black line was distinctly visible round the throat.
"Strangled!" exclaimed the doctor. "He has been murdered!"