“Gosh!” uttered Abby, awed. “Who did it? Did you see anyone?” Mavis shook her head, wiping her eyes. “No one hiding in the garden? Round the back? If you were in the lane they couldn't have escaped that way, could they?”
Mavis looked at her in a bemused fashion. “I don't know. I was so shocked I never thought of anything but that poor Uncle was dead.”
“But didn't you even look?” insisted Abby. “I mean, it had only just happened, and whoever did it can't possibly have managed to get away! Well, not far away, at all events!”
“No, I suppose— But I didn't think about that! I only thought of Uncle.”
“Yes, well, all right!” said Charles. “I suppose that's fairly natural, but when you realised he was dead what did you do?”
She pushed her rather lank hair back from her brow. “I don't know. I think I was sort of stunned for a few minutes. It seemed so impossible! My legs were shaking so that I could hardly stand, and I felt so sick! I managed to get to the house, and I'm afraid I was sick—”
“Yes. That's not what I mean,” said Charles, trying not to speak impatiently. “Have you rung up the police? the doctor?”
She blinked. “No—oh, no! I knew it was no use sending for the doctor. I didn't think about the police. Oh, need we do that? It seems to make it worse, somehow. I mean, Uncle would have hated it! Having an inquest, and everyone talking about it!”
“Merciful heavens!” ejaculated Miss Patterdale. “Have you no sense, Mavis? You know very well I'm not on the telephone, and you come running here before ever you've—now, don't, for goodness' sake begin to cry again! Charles, where are you going?”
“Fox House, of course. I'll ring up the police-station from there, and stand by till they arrive.”