Archie soothed him, leaving go of Widow Anne's arm to do so. “Hush! hush!” said the young man quietly, “the poor woman does not know what she is saying. I'll go for the police and—”
“No,” interrupted the Professor sharply; “Cockatoo can go for the inspector of Pierside. I shall call in the village constable. Meanwhile you keep the key of the museum,” he dropped it into Hope's breast-pocket, “so that you and the police may be sure the body has not been touched. Widow Anne, go home,” he turned angrily on the old creature, who was now trembling after her burst of rage, “and don't dare to come here again until you ask pardon for what you have said.”
“I want to be near my poor boy's corp,” wailed Widow Anne, “and I'm very sorry, Perfesser. I didn't mean to—”
“But you have, you witch. Go away!” and he stamped.
But by this time Lucy had recovered her self-possession, which had been sorely shaken by the sight of the dead.