She stared at him for a moment, as though his words conveyed no meaning; then with a pitiful sound, like the whimpering of a beaten dog, she staggered back against the wall.
Colin strode forward and took her by the arm.
"You must pull yourself together," he said curtly. "This is no time for hysterics. I want your help—now—at once."
As he expected, his almost brutal words had the desired result. She stopped crying, and once more her terrified glance travelled round in the direction of the dead man.
"Who—who killed him?"
Colin shook his head. "I don't know. When I came down the study door was locked from inside. I broke it open and found him lying here—like this."
"It must have been the same man," she whispered; "the one who tried to burgle his desk." She caught hold of Colin's sleeve, and looked up imploringly into his face. "Oh, sir, can't nothing be done? Isn't there——"
"I am going to telephone to the police. While I'm doing it I want you to stand outside in the hall, so that you can see into the room. If you hear the smallest sound or movement in the garden call to me at once."
She gazed fearfully toward the broken window.
"Do you think he's out there, sir, hiding in the bushes?"