“Yes. Ethel came up with him. She hadn’t been able to eat but she’d stayed away like a darling. She hung around while the doctor dressed my arm, looking like a little ghost. The shock of it, on top of the strain of the funeral, had done her up. I sent her across to Miss Mount for a sleeping powder and then sent her to bed, with her door locked!”
“Thought Miss Mount’s door was locked!” said Bernard.
“Well, she was in her room,” answered Graham a trifle irritably. “She must have unlocked it again.”
“You haven’t had any other visitors?”
“Stimson came up once after the doctor left to clean up a bit and see if there was anything I wanted. But he gave me the creeps, too, and I said I only wanted to know when you got back and to see you at once.”
Landis got up from the edge of the bed on which he had been sitting. “Mighty sorry you’ve had such a bad time of it, Graham,” he said. “Guess we shouldn’t have left the house unguarded. But it’s guarded now. There are three police about. I’ll lend you a revolver, though, if you’re nervous. I’ve got one in our bag.”
“No, I don’t feel so panicky now. Tell you what! Lock my door on the outside and shove the key under it again. I’ll try and get some sleep.” He managed a smile. “Only, I hope to Pete you’ll find out who did it and run him in quick! This is no place for Ethel—or me, either!”
“We’ll do that little thing,” said Landis, “and don’t worry! Nobody will come near you tonight. I’m going to station one of the cops up here in the hall so don’t get nervous if you hear his heavy tread. Good night.”
“Good night,” answered Graham, “and thanks a lot.”
They withdrew, locking the door on the outside and flicking the key under it. Then they went down the front stairs, noticing how the bloodstains on the carpet, thickest outside Graham’s door, dwindled as they descended and ceased altogether just inside the library door, where, presumably, Graham’s clothing had not yet become saturated.