Ashton-Kirk slipped from the bed; a step brought him to the door, which he threw open.
"Very well, Stumph," said he, quietly. "You may go back to bed."
The grave-faced German went stolidly down the hall; the young man pulled on a pair of felt slippers; in the library he put the detached receiver to his ear and spoke evenly:
"Well, Miss Vale?"
There was a small, gasping exclamation from the wire, a sort of breath-catching flutter of sound such as a person might utter who had been running hard. Then Edyth Vale, her voice shaking and filled with fear, said:
"Oh! Is that you! I'm glad—glad!"
"Get a firm grip on yourself," advised Ashton-Kirk. "If anything has happened we can no doubt remedy it."
There came a series of moaning sobs across the wire; the girl had evidently broken down and was crying. Ashton-Kirk said nothing; he waited patiently. Finally she spoke once more.
"What has happened can never be remedied." Then her voice sank so low that he could scarcely catch the breathless words. "There has been murder done."
The investigator felt the blood prickle beneath his skin. However, his voice was steady as he replied; his calmly working mind shook off the fear which she so strongly suggested.