Rockwell dropped the book:
"Come in, Mr. Crockett. I was just going to 'phone to you."
Crockett advanced a couple of steps into the room. Then he stopped. There was something portentous in his air of mournful gravity. His eyes travelled from face to face. For a moment they rested on Merriam. Then they came to a full stop on Aunt Mary.
The whole roomful remained silent, fascinated by his look, which seemed to speak, not of threat, which they might have expected, but of some disaster beyond threat.
At last with an effort he turned his eyes from Aunt Mary to Rockwell.
"I have to tell you," he said, "that George Norman is dead."
CHAPTER XXIX
THE FINAL DILEMMA
I do not suppose Mr. Crockett desired to be unnecessarily cruel. Doubtless he would have preferred to break his devastating news more gently. But he was himself in a state of nervous exhaustion from fatigue, worry, and perhaps remorse, and the circle of anxious faces had proved too much for his self-control.
Realising too late the brutal bluntness of his announcement, he broke into a hurried flow of words: