these people want?"

There was a commotion at the door. Frightened faces were framed in the
doorway. Outside there was the sound of a woman whimpering. A tall, dark
young man in a tail coat came in quickly. He stopped short when he saw
the solemn faces of the group at the desk. It was Parrish's man, Jay.
He stepped forward to the desk and in a frightened sort of way peered at
the body as it lay on the floor.

"Oh, sir," he said breathlessly, addressing Greve, "what ever has
happened to Mr. Parrish? It can't be true ..."

Greve put his hand on the young man's shoulder.

"I'm sorry to say it is true, Jay," he answered.

"He was very good to us all," the valet replied in a broken voice. He
remained by the desk staring at the body in a dazed fashion.

"Who is that crying outside?" Greve demanded. "This is no place for
women ..."

"It's Mrs. Heever, the housekeeper," Bude answered.

"Well, she must go back to her room. Send all those servants away. Jay,
will you see to it? And take care that Lady Margaret and Miss Trevert
don't come in here, either."

"Sir Horace is with them, sir, in the lounge," said Jay and went out.