Nick shut his fingers tightly together to keep himself from seizing the monster by the throat then and there.
But he controlled himself so that Lynne saw nothing of the danger he was in; and he reached into the compartment and took the note, folded it, and put it into his pocket.
“We must keep that out of sight for the present, Lynne,� he said, in explanation of his act. “Come; let us get out of here. The place gives me the shivers.�
As one who is bent and torn by grief unbearable, Lynne followed Nick up the stairs, after closing and locking the doors of the vault; and in that same attitude of a stricken man, he followed the detective through the north wing to the main part of the house—and they arrived at the front door just as an automobile drove into the inclosure and under the porte-cochère.
He did not even raise his eyes to discover who had arrived, since that was not in keeping with the part he was playing, and so he did not notice that it was Mrs. Babbington who was assisted from it, for Nick quickly turned him about and led him toward the room where the body of Edythe had not yet been disturbed.
The chief had his instructions from Nick, and would carry them out; and, true enough, it was only a moment later when Nick heard footsteps following them along the corridor.
The detective led Lynne into the room of death, partly closing the door after him—and a moment later it was pushed wider open again, and Mrs. Babbington stepped into the room with all the assured presence of the woman of fashion that she was.
Nick had turned Lynne so that he faced the door, and the sudden start and the awful gasp of terror that he gave when he saw and recognized the woman, could not be described.
“You, you, you!� he cried out, and she was startled, too, by his vehemence, which she had not anticipated, of course, since she believed that he expected her.
But before she could reply, or even make a gesture, a still more dramatic thing happened.