“I am thankful to say that Watson is safe and hardly injured at all. I saw him, and he is coming on as soon as he has made his statement to the Police. Your Inspector came along, and he is bringing Watson back.”
“And the other,” said Allery, almost in a whisper.
“Dead!” said Sanders solemnly.
The silence was broken by a woman’s sobs. Mabel had thrown herself down on the sofa, and was weeping bitterly. Sanders was going to her, but Allery motioned him back. “Let her alone,” he said. “She has had an awful time of it.”
“You will be better in bed,” he said gently to her. “Let me fetch your old nurse.”
The faithful old servant had been hovering about all the evening. She came in and put her arm about the weeping girl, and led her from the room.
“Here he is,” said Allery, jumping to his feet, as the sound of a car was heard. Watson and the Inspector came in, the former looking very white and shaken.
“A bad smash, sir,” said the Inspector to Sinclair, “they must have been going at a cracking pace. I have a full statement from witnesses.”
“Thank you, Miles,” said Sinclair, handing him a drink. “I will send for you to-morrow, and there will be a report to draw up. The matter is more serious than you know. At present a discreet silence is best, you understand.”
“Very good, sir,” said the other, almost giving a wink, and withdrew. There was an awkward silence in the room.