“That’s it, sir. Just the same kind of mark. Although, by the way, you sent it a good ten yards farther. But then, you’re a very powerfully built man, aren’t you, Sir Oswald? Excuse me, I thought I heard someone at the door.”
The Superintendent’s ears must have been very much sharper than anyone else’s. Nobody else had heard a sound, but Battle was proved right, for Lady Coote stood outside, a medicine glass in her hand.
“Your medicine, Oswald,” she said, advancing into the room. “You forgot it after breakfast.”
“I’m very busy, Maria,” said Sir Oswald. “I don’t want my medicine.”
“You would never take it if it wasn’t for me,” said his wife serenely, advancing upon him. “You’re just like a naughty little boy. Drink it up now.”
And meekly, obediently, the great steel magnate drank it up!
Lady Coote smiled sadly and sweetly at everyone.
“Am I interrupting you? Are you very busy? Oh, look at those revolvers. Nasty, noisy, murdering things. To think, Oswald, that you might have been shot by the burglar last night.”
“You must have been alarmed when you found he was missing, Lady Coote,” said Battle.
“I didn’t think of it at first,” confessed Lady Coote. “This poor boy here—” she indicated Jimmy—“being shot—and everything so dreadful, but so exciting. It wasn’t till Mr. Bateman asked me where Sir Oswald was that I remembered he’d gone out half an hour before for a stroll.”