“Isn’t that enough? I’ve told you. Why do you want to go on bothering me?”
Dr. Haydock moved to her side and felt her pulse.
He beckoned to Melchett.
“I’ll stay with her,” he said in a whisper, “whilst you make the necessary arrangements. She oughtn’t to be left. Might do herself a mischief.”
Melchett nodded.
We left the room and descended the stairs. I saw a thin, cadaverous-looking man come out of the adjoining room and on impulse I remounted the stairs.
“Are you Colonel Protheroe’s valet?”
The man looked surprised.
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you know whether your late master kept a pistol anywhere?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
“Not in one of the drawers of his dressing-table? Think, man.”
The valet shook his head decisively.
“I’m quite sure he didn’t, sir. I’d have seen it if so. Bound to.”
I hurried down the stairs after the others.
Mrs. Protheroe had lied about the pistol.
Why?