Читать книгу The 'Phone Booth Mystery онлайн

44 страница из 46

“Who is there?... Yes, Sir Robert Rawson was speaking a moment ago, but he has been taken ill.”

He glanced at the group close by. Sir Robert had fallen, or been lowered by Thomson to the floor, and the valet was rapidly unloosening his collar.

“Who are you?... Oh, it’s you, Evans. Western Division. Yes, I’m John Snell of Scotland Yard.... Well, what is it? Lady Rawson murdered! Had she any papers in her possession?... What? Right. I’ll be with you as soon as possible. Ring off.”

“Master, master!” Thomson was stammering. “He’s dying!”

Snell pressed the electric bell, and hurried to meet the footman.

“Sir Robert is taken ill; he’s had bad news. Lady Rawson has been murdered. Better telephone for a doctor and fetch the housekeeper.”

Two minutes later he was speeding westward in a taxi, eager to investigate this sudden and tragic development of the case, for he assumed instantly that the murder was the outcome of the theft of the papers.

At the house in Grosvenor Gardens confusion reigned for a time. The only one among the flurried servants who kept a clear head at this crisis was the imperturbable Thomson, who, after the unwonted outburst of emotion that escaped him as he knelt beside his stricken master, resumed his habitual composure, and promptly took charge of the situation as it affected Sir Robert himself. For the time being he practically ignored the news of the murder, which the others, naturally enough, began discussing with awestruck excitement. Now, as ever, his one thought was his master, and with deft tenderness he did what he thought best—loosening the sufferer’s clothes and raising his head. When the doctor arrived Thomson proved an invaluable assistant in every way.