"It wasn't him called in when Carter was shot, was it?"
"No. Hinchcliffe. Chester was out on a case."
"I'll bet he's thanking his stars for it!" said the Sergeant. "Fancy having to tell Mrs. C. how he found her husband!"
The Sergeant was quite right in thinking that the car was the doctor's, and that the doctor was bound for Palings. A few minutes later he drew up outside the porch, and got out, stripping off the gloves he wore for driving, and tossing them into the car. The front door was still standing open, and he walked into the hall, encountering there Mary, who had just come down the stairs. She was looking pale, and worried, but her eyes lit up when she saw Chester, and she went quickly towards him, holding out her hands.
"Oh, Maurice, I'm so glad you've come!"
He took her hands, holding them firmly in his for a moment. "I couldn't come sooner. I was in the middle of my surgery when Hinchcliffe rang up to tell me. How's Ermyntrude?"
"Awful!" said Mary, with a shudder. "Lyceum stage. It's no use frowning at me. You'll see."
He looked critically at her. "You look as though you're in need of my professional services yourself. I prescribe a stiff whisky-and-soda. See you take it!"
"It's not such a bad idea," she admitted. "I don't seem to have had time to collect myself. I can't even quite grasp what's happened. It doesn't seem, possible!"
"What did happen?" he asked. "Hinchcliffe merely told me that White sent for him, and that he found Carter dead - shot on the bridge. Is anything known?"