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some help and telephone. Heard a shot, and someone came rushing out of the windows and collided with me.’ Holding out the gun, Starkwedder added, ‘He dropped this.’
    â€˜Where did this man go?’ Miss Bennett asked him.
    â€˜How the hell should I know in this fog?’ Starkwedder replied.
    Jan stood in front of Richard’s body, staring excitedly at it. ‘Somebody’s shot Richard,’ he shouted.
    â€˜Looks like it,’ Starkwedder agreed. ‘You’d better get in touch with the police.’ He placed the gun on the table by the wheelchair, picked up the decanter, and poured brandy into a glass. ‘Who is he?’
    â€˜My husband,’ said Laura, expressionlessly, as she went to sit on the sofa.
    With what sounded a slightly forced concern, Starkwedder said to her, ‘Here–drink this.’ Laura looked up at him. ‘You’ve had a shock,’ he added emphatically. As she took the glass, with his back turned to the others Starkwedder gave her a conspiratorial grin, to call her attention to his solution of the fingerprint problem. Turning away, he threw his hat on the armchair, and then, suddenly noticing that Miss Bennett was about to bend over Richard Warwick’s body, he swung quickly round. ‘No, don’t touch anything, madam,’ he implored her. ‘This looks like murder, and if it is then nothing must be touched.’
    Straightening up, Miss Bennett backed away from the body in the chair, looking appalled. ‘Murder?’ she exclaimed. ‘It can’t be murder!’
    Mrs Warwick, the mother of the dead man, had stopped just inside the door of the study. She came forward now, asking, ‘What has happened?’
    â€˜Richard’s been shot! Richard’s been shot!’ Jan told her. He sounded more excited than concerned.
    â€˜Quiet, Jan,’ ordered Miss Bennett.
    â€˜What did I hear you say?’ asked Mrs Warwick, quietly.
    â€˜ He said–murder,’ Benny told her, indicating Starkwedder.
    â€˜Richard,’ Mrs Warwick whispered, as Jan leaned over the body, calling, ‘Look–look–there’s something on his chest–a paper–with writing on it.’ His hand went out to it, but he was stopped by Starkwedder’s command: ‘Don’t touch–whatever you do, don’t touch.’ Then he read aloud, slowly, ‘“May–fifteen–paid in full”.’
    â€˜Good Lord! MacGregor,’ Miss Bennett exclaimed, moving behind the sofa.
    Laura rose. Mrs Warwick frowned. ‘You mean,’ she said, ‘–that man–the father–the child that was run over–?’
    â€˜Of course, MacGregor,’ Laura murmured to herself as she sat in the armchair.
    Jan went up to the body. ‘Look–it’s all newspaper–cut up,’ he said in excitement. Starkwedder again restrained him. ‘No, don’t touch it,’ he ordered. ‘It’s got to be left for the police.’ He stepped towards the telephone. ‘Shall I–?’
    â€˜No,’ said Mrs Warwick firmly. ‘I will.’ Taking charge of the situation, and summoning her courage, she went to the desk and started to dial. Jan moved excitedly to the stool and knelt upon it. ‘The man that ran away,’ he asked Miss Bennett. ‘Do you think he–?’
    â€˜Ssh, Jan,’ Miss Bennett said to him firmly, while Mrs Warwick spoke quietly but in a clear, authoritative voice on the telephone. ‘Is that the police station? Thisis Llangelert House. Mr Richard Warwick’s house. Mr Warwick has just been found–shot dead.’
    She went on speaking into the phone. Her voice remained low, but the others in the room listened intently. ‘No, he was found by a stranger,’ they heard her say. ‘A man whose car had broken down near the house, I believe…Yes, I’ll tell him. I’ll phone the inn. Will one of