I asked him what he thought we ought to say to any callers who might come, and whether we had not better have some agreement among ourselves as to how much information we were to give them when they came.
“Why, yes, of course we must,” he said pleasantly. “I hope that I shan’t have to go out again to-night, and probably I had better see any one who calls while I am here. I shall be able to choke them off more easily than Ethel would, and it will appear quite natural for me to explain that she has gone to lie down and rest. Then at supper-time we can decide together what to say to all the Merchester busybodies to-morrow. It surprises me that we have not been pestered with callers already. It is all over the city, I know, for half a dozen of my patients found it difficult to hide their curiosity, when I was out on my rounds this afternoon. You will see that quite apart from the kindly concern of Hanson’s more intimate friends, half Merchester will be calling or ringing us up during the next twenty-four hours. They will come for subscriptions, to borrow books, and to be treated for imaginary complaints. Anything, in fact, that will give them a chance to satisfy their ghoulish curiosity, and here is the first of them now, unless I am very much mistaken.”
The bell had begun to ring as he was speaking, and Annie announced Rushton, the secretary of the tennis club. He was asking for Ethel. We had him shown into the dispensary.
After shaking hands with us and refusing to sit down, as he wanted to get back to the club as soon as he could, he came to the object of his visit with commendable brevity. He hoped that it was not true that Miss Palfreeman was dead, but that she was merely ill, as Mr. Bennett had told them when he called at the club to scratch our names in the morning. He was a rather nervous little man, at the best of times, and it was obvious that he was not enjoying his visit.
“It is unfortunately only too true,” The Tundish replied. “She died at some hour during the night, and Miss Hanson had the shock of trying to wake her up this morning.”
“Oh! I say, I am so sorry. And is it true that there is to be an inquest?”
“Yes, that is true too. No one was with her when she died, and I am unable to certify the cause of her death. We have consulted the police, and they tell us that an inquest can’t possibly be avoided.”
Rushton stood embarrassed, and muttering, “Oh dear, how sad! How very, very sad!” Ill at ease, he was tracing half-circles on the cork matting with the toe of his shoe.
“Look here, I don’t want to add to your troubles,” he said, looking up suddenly, as though he had made up his mind to go through with an unpleasant task, “but I thought I ought to tell Miss Hanson about it at once. I wanted to see her and tell her. There are all manner of things being whispered about at the club.”
He hesitated again uncomfortably, and then went on with a sort of nervous rush. “They are saying that the police have been in and out of the house all day long. That Miss Palfreeman was murdered, that you have all of you been detained, and that you, Dr. Wallace, were seen being driven off to the police station itself under escort. There are all sorts of whisperings, and each that I have overheard has been a little more gruesome than the last. It’s beastly unpleasant news to have to give you, but I really felt that some one ought to come and let you know of the things that are being said.”