“No,” said Belknap, matching the softness of her voice. “But it seems quite possible. It would be strange if you and I were the only ones abroad in the house tonight, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” she whispered. They stood motionless. “It is going downstairs. Oh my God, it will find it. Do something, Belknap. Quick, destroy that paper, if you love me!”
A long, long scream penetrated the house from corner to corner, like a knife thrust. And then the silence fell again. Nadia drew a deep, shuddering breath, and when she spoke her voice was stronger.
“Perhaps you had better go down, Mr. Belknap. Something seems to be wrong.”
“Something does. You may come with me if you care to.”
They went down and to the door of the library where there was a light. Sydney Crawford stood over a body lying crumpled on the floor. The body was Hartley Blake’s, and was stabbed so well and so often as to have watered the rug thickly with blood.
Sydney, with stricken eyes, met Belknap’s gaze.
“I found this,” she said. “I’m sorry to have screamed, but it was a little unexpected.”
Belknap turned on his heel and rang the service bell. He crossed to the telephone on Whittaker’s desk and lifted the receiver.
“Sit down, Mrs. Crawford. You, too, Miss Mdevani. Don’t look at the body. I shall have the police here in a moment. But perhaps I can help you, Mrs. Crawford, if you have anything to say to me before they arrive. I shall undoubtedly be on the case, since I have had the misfortune to be at Thorngate this week-end—(Police Department? Ordway Belknap speaking. You may or may not know my name. I am up at Judge Whittaker’s place. Yes, Whittaker. There has been a murder committed here during the night. Body just discovered. You had better send up a sergeant with a few men. The guests, I am afraid, will have to be held. Pick up a doctor of course. Right you are.)”