He then stumped out of the room, colliding in the doorway with Sydney Butterwick. He glared, his sapient eye taking in the fact that this weakheaded young man had been fortifying himself a little too liberally. "Now then, now then, look where you're goin', young fellow!" he growled, and went off down the stairs to the boudoir.
A minute later he came back into the drawing-room, breathing rather hard, and looking very much shaken. He seemed to find some difficulty in speaking, and it was seen that his hand was trembling. Everyone stared at him; and Lady Nest, perceiving his pallor, jumped up from her chair, exclaiming: 'Roddy, are you feeling ill?"
He gulped, and made a gesture waving her aside. "Westruther!" he said. Job for you! Go down there! That fellow - Seaton-Carew!"
"What is it?" Mrs. Haddington demanded sharply. "Roddy, what's the matter? Where's Dan?"
Sir Roderick tottered to a chair, and sat down. "He's dead," he said bluntly. "Turned me up a bit. Nasty shock. No, no, Lilias, you stay where you are! Job for Westruther, not you. The fellow's been strangled!"
Chapter Seven
The insistent clamour which had been intruding for some time into Chief Inspector Hemingway's dreams at last woke him. He swore, raised himself on one elbow, and groped for the lamp beside his bed. A moment later a voice said in his ear: "Chief Inspector Hemingway?"
It was a brisk, official voice: the Chief Inspector recognised it as one that belonged to his superior, and life-long friend, Superintendent Hinckley, of the Criminal Investigation Department. He said, with great correctness: "Yes, sir."
"Sound sleeper, aren't you? Easy conscience, I expect. There's a job waiting for you."
"Now, look here, Bob!" said the Chief Inspector, abandoning the official manner. "If you're having a joke with me -"