I wish I could know something of the details, and of what is to be done. If I could only help!
“Anthony,” she said. “He is gone.”
“Gone!” I repeated stupidly.
“He died this morning, Anthony. He was not alive when the automobile arrived here.”
“But,” I blundered on, “I don't understand—it was a bad fall, but—”
“It was not the fall,” she said. Then, “Wait there, I shall need you.”
I heard the click that cut me off, but for a moment I just stood there with the receiver still pressed to my ear.
It was I myself who had let him have the knife.