She led the way into the hall, and in another moment Fayre was ringing up the house in Westminster.
Kean’s butler answered the call.
“Can I speak to Sir Edward Kean?” asked Fayre. “He is expecting a call from me. Mr. Fayre speaking.”
“Mr. Fayre?” The man’s voice was eager and hurried. “If you could come round, sir? We’re in great trouble here and the responsibility . . . There’s no one . . .”
The broken sentences tailed off oddly and Fayre was suddenly seized with an ominous sense of foreboding.
“What is it?” he asked sharply.
“Sir Edward, sir. He shot himself just after you left. . . .”
“Is he dead? Quick, man!”
“Yes. He must have died at once. The doctor’s here now. If you could come at once, sir . . .”
“I’ll come now.”