A moment’s shocked, incredulous silence greeted this announcement. Conrad broke it. “Christ.”
Clara gave a moan, and collapsed on to the sofa, rocking herself dumbly to and fro. Charmian sprang up from her chair. “It isn’t possible!”
“I tell you he has! Good God, you don’t think I’d make up such a story, do you? What do you take me for? It’s true!”
“But how — where — when?” stammered Conrad, almost as white as Ingram himself.
“Blew his brains out. Up by Dozmary Pool,” Ingram replied, still mopping his brow.
Conrad started forward. “Bart didn’t find him?” he cried.
“Bart? No! Some trippers — I don’t know who they were. They drove straight into Bodmin, and reported it at the police station there. I don’t know when it was. Really, I feel absolutely dazed! It was all I could do to take it in when that fellow — what’s-his-name? — the Inspector — rang me up just now. You could have knocked me down with a feather! Of course, it’s obvious why he did it, but somehow I never thought that Ray, of all people on this earth — But he did: no doubt about that!”
“Look out!” Charmian said warningly.
Faith stood in the doorway, her eyes wide and questioning. “Ray? What did you never think about Ray? Why are you all looking like that? What is it?”
No one answered her. She stared at Clara, at the tears coursing silently down her cheeks, and asked falteringly: “Clara, what is it? Why don’t you tell me, one of you? What has happened?”