“Where the devil are the servants, anyway?” demanded his pal.
“We’ll get them shortly,” said the other. “And the police, too. Don’t forget, old man, we killed that bloke between us. It was the only thing to do: he was crazy. But it’s a police matter.”
“What is?” Jack Denver’s hoarse croak made them both swing round. He was sitting up, swaying a little, and the doctor hurried to him.
“Feeling better?” he said. “That’s good.”
Denver pushed him away.
“How’s Hilda—how’s Mrs. Garling?”
“Going fine. She hasn’t come round yet—but she will soon. There she is, beside you.”
For a moment Denver looked at her, then he got up unsteadily.
“I don’t know who you are,” he said, “but there’s a man in this house I’m going to kill.”
The two naval officers looked at one another.