“And, sir,” Matthews added, “Scotland Yard telephoned to say that the doctor is with Miss Mackwayte now.”
Desmond started up.
“Is Miss Mackwayte ill?” he exclaimed.
The Chief answered slowly, as Matthews withdrew: “Mr. Mackwayte was found murdered at his house early this morning!”
CHAPTER IV.
MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE
There is a sinister ring about the word “murder,” which reacts upon even the most hardened sensibility. Edgar Allan Poe, who was a master of the suggestive use of words, realized this when he called the greatest detective story ever written “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.” From the very beginning of the war, Desmond had seen death in all its forms but that word “murdered,” spoken with slow emphasis in the quiet room, gave him an ugly chill feeling round the heart that he had never experienced on the battlefield.
“Murdered!” Desmond repeated dully and sat down. He felt stunned. He was not thinking of the gentle old man cruelly done to death or of the pretty Barbara prostrate with grief. He was overawed by the curious fatality that had plucked him from the horrors of Flanders only to plunge him into a tragedy at home.
“Yes,” said the Chief bluntly, “by a burglar apparently—the house was ransacked!”
“Chief,” he broke out, “you must explain. I’m all at sea! Why did you send for me? What have you got to do with criminal cases, anyway? Surely, this is a Scotland Yard matter!”
The Chief shook his head.