Harley nodded. “Yes—do so. You understand, Innes, I am engaged and not to be disturbed on any account?”
“I understand. You are going out by the private exit?”
“Exactly.”
As Innes retired, quietly closing the door, Harley took up the telephone and called Sir Charles Abingdon’s number. He was answered by a voice which he recognized.
“This is Paul Harley speaking,” he said. “Is that Benson?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the butler. “Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Benson. I have one or two questions to ask you, and there is something I want you to do for me. Miss Abingdon is out, I presume?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Benson, sadly. “At the funeral, sir.”
“Is Mrs. Howett in?”
“She is, sir.”