After a minute I gathered myself together and Mr. Jarvis helped me into the living-room. Liddy had got Gertrude up-stairs, and the two strange men from the club stayed with the body. The reaction from the shock and strain was tremendous: I was collapsed—and then Mr. Jarvis asked me a question that brought back my wandering faculties.
“Where is Halsey?” he asked.
“Halsey!” Suddenly Gertrude’s stricken face rose before me the empty rooms up-stairs. Where was Halsey?
“He was here, wasn’t he?” Mr. Jarvis persisted. “He stopped at the club on his way over.”
“I—don’t know where he is,” I said feebly.
One of the men from the club came in, asked for the telephone, and I could hear him excitedly talking, saying something about coroners and detectives. Mr. Jarvis leaned over to me.
“Why don’t you trust me, Miss Innes?” he said. “If I can do anything I will. But tell me the whole thing.”
I did, finally, from the beginning, and when I told of Jack Bailey’s being in the house that night, he gave a long whistle.
“I wish they were both here,” he said when I finished. “Whatever mad prank took them away, it would look better if they were here. Especially—”
“Especially what?”