Anne Hennessey told me afterward that she heard her scream on the other side of the house. I heard it, too, and it raised my hair—and then a lot of words coming thin and shrill along the wire. "Sylvia, my daughter—dead—murdered?" It was awful, I hate to think of it.
Nora and Anne ran at the sound and found Mrs. Fowler all wild and screaming, with the receiver hanging down. I could hear them, a babble of tiny little voices as if I had a line on some part of Purgatory where the spirits were crying and wailing.
Suddenly it stopped—somebody had hung up. I waited, shaking there like a leaf and feeling like I'd a blow in the stomach. Then Mapleshade called and I heard Anne's voice, distinct but broken as if she'd been running.
"Molly, is that you? Do you by any chance know if the Doctor's in the village?"
"He was here a little while ago with a man calling up Firehill. Anne, I heard—it can't be true."
"Oh, it is—it is—I can't talk now. I've got to find him. Give me Firehill. He may have gone there. Quick, for God's sake!"
I gave it and heard her tell a man at the other end of the line.
I'll go on from here and tell what happened at Firehill. I've pieced it out from the testimony at the inquest and from what the Gilseys afterward told in the village.
The Doctor and Mills went straight out there from the Exchange. When they arrived Gilsey told him Mr. Reddy wasn't up yet, but he'd call him. The Doctor, however, said the matter was urgent and they couldn't lose a minute, so the three of them went upstairs together and Gilsey knocked at the door. After he'd knocked twice a sleepy voice called out, "Come in," and Gilsey opened the door.
It led into a sitting-room with a bedroom opening off it. On a sofa just opposite the door was Jack Reddy, dressed and stretched out as if he'd been asleep.