"So runs my dream. But what am I?
An infant crying in the night,
An infant crying for the light,
And with no language but a cry.
Same like you, Lomas."
"I notice you are not so much the moral sage this morning," Lomas said sourly.
"Lomas, dear, don't be unkind. I can't abear it. I wish to God I was down there!"
"Damn it, we've got two men down there now—one on Sandford, one on Kimball. They'll be knocking their heads together. What the devil do you think you could do?"
"Nothing. Lord, don't I know it? Nothing. That's what makes me peevish."
Lomas said severely that he had work to do, and Reggie left him, promising to come back and take him out to lunch, which he received as if it were a threat.
But when Reggie did come back, Superintendent Bell was in the room and Lomas listening to the telephone. Bell looked oddly at Reggie. Lomas raised a blank and pallid face from the receiver. "Sandford has murdered Kimball," he said.
"Oh, Peter! I wonder if he's brought it off," Reggie murmured. "Has he brought it off after all?" He bit his lip. Lomas was talking into the telephone. Asking for details, giving instructions.
