“Apart from the doctor, none of you is to leave the house and garden, and you are not to make any mention of Miss Palfreeman’s death either over the telephone or by letter. Miss Hanson, for instance, is not to write to her father or mother about it. There will be a formal inquest the day after to-morrow which you will have to attend, but I am arranging it so that practically no questions at all will be asked you. It will be a purely formal affair, postponed until after my return.” Then he added after a brief pause, “I have been wondering whether you should like one of my men to sleep in the house—what do you say, Miss Hunter?”
Margaret looked at him wide-eyed. “Surely that is hardly necessary,” she said.
“It shall be as you wish, if Miss Hanson and the others agree. I will ask Miss Hanson myself. How do you feel about it, Mr. Dane?”
Kenneth looked stonily ahead and refused to answer.
Allport shrugged his shoulders, saying, “Well, if you feel safe, and the doctor here agrees as well, Miss Hunter shall have her way. I don’t imagine you are likely to have any more trouble, at least no trouble that any man of mine could prevent. And now where is Miss Summerson?”
“She has gone,” said The Tundish. “I found this addressed to you on the desk in the dispensary just now.”
“The devil she has.” He tore open the envelope and hastily read the contents, a sarcastic smile twisting his sloppy mouth. Then he included us all in a stiff formal little bow and left the room. A few minutes later we heard the front door bang, and we were alone once more and left to our own resources. Another devastating silence—a silence which, awkward and uncomfortable as it was, it seemed yet more awkward to break—settled down on us. Kenneth made no movement, and we four stood tongue-tied looking first at him and then at one another.
The doctor was the first to speak. “A cold bath and a change is the proper prescription for all of us, I fancy, but if the inspector can lend me a body-guard I have one or two patients who will be feeling neglected! Ethel ought to go to her room and lie down; Margaret, will you try to persuade her to? She is to keep the bandage on until I come back, then a piece of plaster will be all that is required. You needn’t feel that she is badly hurt, Kenneth.”
“Go to hell!” was Kenneth’s comment.
“I’ll go to my patients first,” The Tundish replied pleasantly. “I’ll order tea for half past four, and as this room is so hot I’ll tell Annie to set it in the garden.”