"He's dead, I tell you. Who did it?"

"That waiter--" I began, and then stopped. Looking in from a door
opposite the hall door, probably one that led to a butler's pantry or
kitchen, were half a dozen white-faced waiters.

"Come in here," said Remson; "not all of you. Which is chief?"

"I am, sir," and a head waiter came into the room. "What has
happened?"

"A man has been killed," said the doctor, shortly. "Who are you? Who
are you all? House servants?"

"No sir," said the chief. "We're caterer's men. From Fraschini's. I'm
Luigi. We are here to serve supper."

"What do you know of this?"

"Nothing, sir," and the Italian looked truthful, though scared.

"Haven't you been in and out of the dining-room all evening?"

"Yes, sir. Setting the table, and such. But now it's all ready, and I
was waiting Miss Van Allen's word to serve it."

"Where is Miss Van Allen?" I broke in.

"I--I don't know, sir," Luigi hesitated, and Doctor Remson
interrupted.