Muttering, frightened voices came from the dining-room. Jenkins entered, and, shaking his head, went up the stairs. The two women who followed him, were in tears. They paused, as if seeking an excuse to linger on the lower floor, to postpone as long as possible their entrance of the room of death.
Ella, a pretty girl, whose dark hair and eyes suggested a normal vivacity, spoke to Bobby.
"It's outrageous, Mr. Robert. He found out all we knew this morning.
What's he after now? You might think we'd murdered Mr. Blackburn."
Jane was older. An ugly scar crossed her cheek. It was red and like an open wound as she demanded that Bobby put a stop to these inquisitions.
"I can do nothing," he said. "Go on up and answer or they can make trouble for you."
Muttering again to each other, they followed Jenkins, and in the lower hall the three men waited.
Jenkins came down first. His face was white. It twitched.
"The body!" he mouthed. "It's moved! I saw it before."
He stretched out his hands to Bobby.
"That's why they wanted us, to find out where we were this afternoon, and everything we've done, as if we might have gone there, and disturbed—"