“Shall I tell you?” he said.
“Please.”
“He was found shot in his library yesterday.”
“Do you mean murdered?” she said, dismissing the thought of suicide unconsciously.
“I am afraid so,” he replied. The sweat stood on his forehead. What a fool he had been to undertake this task!
“And you have come to tell me about it? How kind of you,” she said, as in a dream. He saw this could not last, and with quick instinct rang the bell.
The door opened, and an old servant with a sweet face came in. She had been Mabel’s nurse, and had remained with her as a sort of companion and friend. At the sight of her something seemed to snap in the girl’s head, and she ran to her.
“Oh, Nanna,” she cried. “My father has been murdered.”
The woman looked indignantly at Collins, as though he had struck her darling, and took her in her arms, where the tears came at last.
Collins withdrew to the farther side of the room, and looked at the garden. When he turned, the room was empty.