Chapter Three.
A Mystery.
“Why!” gasped Beck, recognising the cold, drawn features by the light of the match he struck. “It’s Dudley! Run back to the house and get assistance quickly. I’ll remain here. Life may not be extinct after all, poor fellow!” At this suggestion I sprang up, and dashing away along the drive, burst into the drawing-room from the lawn.
“Geoffrey!” cried Mrs Laing, starting up quickly from a cosy-corner wherein she had settled to read. “What has happened? You look scared.”
“A very painful thing has occurred,” I gasped breathlessly, striving to preserve a calm demeanour. “We have found poor Dudley lying in the drive yonder. He’s dead!”
“Dead!” she screamed hysterically. “Dudley dead!”
“Yes, alas!” I replied. “Beck is with him, awaiting assistance.”
“I can’t believe it,” she cried, clutching at a chair for support. Her face was ashen pale, and her bejewelled hands trembled violently. “Poor Dudley! If he is dead, it is certain that he has been the victim of foul play,” she added mechanically, in a low tone. Then suddenly recovering herself, she inquired the circumstances in which we had found him.
“I will explain later,” I cried impatiently. “May I ring for the servants?”
“No,” she cried, starting forward with a strange, wild look. “Return to him, and leave all to me. For the present the truth must be kept from Ella. There are reasons why my daughter should not know of this tragic affair until to-morrow. As you are aware, she is weak and unstrung to-night, and has already gone to her room. I fear that any sudden shock may prove extremely detrimental to her, and I therefore trust you will respect my wishes.”