"Doctor Groom said you were to drink this. It would make you sleep, sir."
Bobby closed his eyes again.
"Put it on the table where I can reach it when I want it."
"Yes, sir. Mr. Robert! The policeman? Did he say anything, if I might make so bold as to ask?"
"Go away," Bobby groaned. "Leave me in peace."
And peace for a little time came to him. It was the sound of voices in the room that aroused him. He lay for a time, scarcely knowing where he was, but little by little the sickening truth came back, and he realized that it was Graham and the detective, Howells, who talked close to the window, and Graham had already fulfilled his promise.
Bobby didn't want to eavesdrop, but it was patent he would embarrass Graham by disclosing himself now, and it was likely Graham would be glad of a witness to anything the detective might say.
It was still light. A ray from the low sun entered the window and rested on the door of the enclosed staircase.
Graham's anxious demand was the first thing Bobby heard distinctly—the thing that warned him to remain secreted.
"I think now with the coroner on his way it's time you defined your suspicions a trifle more clearly. I am a lawyer. In a sense I represent young Mr. Blackburn. Please tell me why you are so sure his grandfather was murdered."