“Hullo—is that you, Haydock? Melchett speaking. Come to 19 High Street at once, will you? Hawes has taken some kind of overdose. At once, man, it’s vital.”
He rang off, strode impatiently up and down the room.
“Why on earth you didn’t get hold of the doctor at once, Clement, I cannot think. Your wits have all gone wool gathering.”
Fortunately it never occurs to Melchett that anyone can possibly have different ideas on conduct to those he holds himself. I said nothing, and he went on:
“Where did you find this letter?”
“Crumpled on the floor—where it had fallen from his hand.”
“Extraordinary business—the old maid was right about its being the wrong note we found. Wonder how she tumbled to that. But what an ass the fellow was not to destroy this one. Fancy keeping it—the most damaging evidence you can imagine!”
“Human nature is full of inconsistencies.”
“If it weren’t, I doubt if we should ever catch a murderer! Sooner or later they always do some fool thing. You’re looking very under the weather, Clement. I suppose this has been the most awful shock to you?”
“It has. As I say, Hawes has been queer in his manner for some time, but I never dreamed—”
“Who would? Hallo, that sounds like a car.” He went across to the window, pushing up the sash and leaning out. “Yes, it’s Haydock all right.”
A moment later the doctor entered the room.