"Your friends are still at it, I hear, Sergeant," he greeted Heath, with his usual breezy manner. Handing his coat and hat to Sproot, he came forward and shook hands with all of us. "When you fellows don't spoil my breakfast you interfere with my lunch," he repined. "Where's the body?"
Heath led him up-stairs, and after a few minutes returned to the drawing-room. Taking out another cigar he bit the end of it savagely. "Well, sir, I guess you'll want to see this Miss Sibella next, won't you?"
"We might as well," sighed Markham. "Then I'll tackle the servants and leave things to you. The reporters will be along pretty soon."
"Don't I know it! And what they're going to do to us in the papers'll be a-plenty!"
"And you can't even tell them 'it is confidently expected that an arrest will be made in the immediate future,' don't y' know," grinned Vance. "It's most distressin'."
Heath made an inarticulate noise of exasperation and, calling Sproot, sent him for Sibella.
A moment later she came in carrying a small Pomeranian. She was paler than I had ever seen her, and there was unmistakable fright in her eyes. When she greeted us it was without her habitual gaiety.
"This thing is getting rather ghastly, isn't it?" she remarked when she had taken a seat.
"It is indeed dreadful," returned Markham soberly. "You have our very deepest sympathy. . . ."
"Oh, thanks awf'ly." She accepted the cigarette Vance offered her. "But I'm beginning to wonder
