into a bathroom, the fittings of which were of coral-coloured porcelain. A door in the opposite wall led into her bedroom. She went immediately to a leather reference book beside a telephone near her bed.
“It’s Calumet 8769,” she said.
Her finger slipped in the dialling. Lieutenant Valcour gently took the instrument from her hands and put through the call.
“The office of Dr. Worth?” he said, when a woman’s voice answered him. “This is the home of Mr. Herbert Endicott. I am Lieutenant Valcour of the police department. Mr. Endicott is dead. I would appreciate it if Dr. Worth would come here at once and consult with the medical examiner, and also attend to Mrs. Endicott. Thank you.” He replaced the receiver.
“I haven’t the slightest intention of collapsing, Lieutenant.”
“We will need Dr. Worth anyway, Mrs. Endicott.”
Lieutenant Valcour dialled the Central Office and, in a suddenly most efficient voice, gave the requisite information. He then called his own precinct station and told the sergeant at the desk to send over a detail of five men in uniform.
“The chief of the Homicide Bureau, the medical examiner, and some of my own men will be here presently,” he said to Mrs. Endicott.
“And my husband has to stay in that cupboard until they come?”
“Unless Dr. Worth arrives first and disagrees with me that Mr. Endicott is dead.”
“It’s inhuman.”
“Very, but there’s a set routine for these cases that we have to observe. Is this the button you ring for your maid?”