Eily was on the bottom step of the stair, crouched down with her face in her hands.

In the moment that it took Jane and Jeremy to see all this Miss Silver passed them. She went straight down into the hall and touched one of those outflung wrists. As she straightened up again, Fogarty Castell came running down, dishevelled past belief, red pyjama jacket open at the neck, plaid dressing-gown flapping. At once the whole frozen scene broke up. His noisy agitation swamped it. Ejaculations, protests, asseverations set the air throbbing.

“My poor Luke! What has he done that this should happen to him? Who is the assassin? And why should it happen to me, in my house-my respectable house? And Mr. Taverner here-and the party-the reunion! What a reunion! We must have a doctor-why does nobody send for a doctor? Perhaps he may be restored-perhaps he may speak-if it is only one word-if it is only the name of the murderer who ruins me by arranging an assassination in my house! My poor Luke- such a waiter-such a hand with a cocktail!” He ran his fingers through his already distracted hair and produced an epitaph in a single word-“Unreplaceable!”

It was at this moment that Geoffrey Taverner made his appearance, an unruffled figure, his grey dressing-gown neatly fastened, his hair immaculate. The horn-rimmed glasses had been removed and left behind in his room. They marked the place at which he had been interrupted in his reading of Three Corpses and a Coffin.

Jacob Taverner followed a step or two behind, overcoated and muffled as if about to take the road, his face puckered up with cold. Or perhaps it wasn’t cold, but something else which gave him that yellow tinge under the tan. He came round the bend of the stair on Geoffrey Taverner’s heels, and heard Miss Silver say,

“He is quite dead, Mr. Castell. The police must be rung up immediately.”

Eily didn’t move. Jacob Taverner stepped past her into the hall. He stood there looking down at the prostrate figure.

“Luke White-eh?” He turned sharply on Miss Silver. “You say he’s dead. How do you know? Not a doctor, are you?”

Miss Silver’s air of authority had left her. She coughed in a deprecating manner and said,

“There is no pulse. And the position of the wound. I may have spoken too decidedly.” She produced a slightly flustered impression. “I was in London during the war. One could scarcely avoid some painful experiences.”

Jacob said, “H’m!” And then, “We ought to get him out of here.”

Miss Silver became very flustered indeed. With all the wish in the world to remain unobtrusively in the background, she really could not acquiesce in the removal of the body. She gave an excellent imitation of something very feminine and clinging.

“Oh, do you think so? Of course you will know best, but I have always understood that nothing should be disturbed until the arrival of the police. So extremely inconvenient, but I have always been under that impression.”

From the half open dining-room door came the raised exasperated voice of Fogarty Castell.

“Yes, I have said it twice-Ledlington police station!… Is that Ledlington police station?…I have an assassination to report…I say an assassination! A man has been stabbed with a knife! He is dead!”

Jacob Taverner crossed over to the dining-room and went in, shutting the door behind him. They could no longer hear what was said.

All this while Florence Duke had not moved at all. Eily still sat with her face in her hands. She was wearing a faded pink dressing-gown over her nightdress, and a pair of old bedroom slippers on her bare feet. Her dark hair was loose upon her shoulders. Jane sat down on the step beside her and put her arm round her. She could feel then that Eily was shuddering. Long tremors went over her like waves coming in on a low tide.

As Jeremy stepped down into the hall he felt a touch on his arm. It might have been accidental, but he thought not. Miss Silver stood just within the open doorway of the lounge. He thought that it was she who had touched him. As she stepped back, he moved forward. The darkness and warmth of the empty room were behind them. The fire still glowed upon the hearth. Whilst in full view of the hall, they were to all intents and purposes alone.

Miss Silver said in a very composed manner,

“Captain Taverner, I am not anxious to put myself forward. You are accustomed to some authority. Will you assert yourself if it is necessary? Nothing should be moved or touched before the arrival of the police, and if it is possible, everyone should come in here and await their arrival.”

He nodded.

“The girls aren’t dressed-none of us are, except Florence Duke. She-” He broke off suddenly.

Miss Silver coughed.

“She has blood on her hands. That does not prove anything, you know. If she found him, she may have attempted to stanch the wound. She has certainly received a severe shock. I think I had better go to her. The police should be here within half an hour. Pray do your best to get everyone into the lounge.”

She crossed the foot of the stairs and came to where Florence Duke stood motionless, her eyes on her reddened hands. She did not move when Miss Silver touched her.

“Mrs. Duke, will you come into the lounge and sit down. The police will be here before long. They will want to see everyone. You have had a shock.”

The arm she was touching jerked under her hand. Florence Duke made a choking sound in her throat. There were no words. Then on a deep, hard-won breath they came, not pouring out, but in her old slow way, like bubbles rising.

“He’s dead-I found him-”

“Yes. The police will want to know anything you can tell them. Come and sit down in the lounge.”

Florence did not move. She went on looking at her hands. She said,

“She was there-that girl Eily-she came from the lounge- she screamed. She said, ‘It’s Luke! He’s dead.’ And I said, ‘You never know your luck.’ ”

Miss Silver coughed.

“Why did you say that?”

Florence moved for the first time-moved and shifted her gaze. The fine dark eyes rested for a moment upon Miss Silver. They had a blank look. She said in that slow way,

“Well, you don’t, do you? Perhaps she doesn’t know hers. Perhaps it will catch up on her. It does sometimes when you’re not expecting it.”

Miss Silver said, “Dear me! Now what did you mean by that?”

Something flickered in the dark eyes. The heavy, monotonous voice said,

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She turned with a jerk and walked into the lounge.

Geoffrey Taverner was lighting the wall-lamps. As the light came on it showed Florence Duke standing over the fire. She had a handkerchief, and she was rubbing her hands and wiping them dry. When she had finished she dropped the handkerchief into the fire, where it presently blazed up and fell away to a light ash.

Jeremy was getting everyone into the lounge and doing it very well.

Jacob Taverner came over from the dining-room with Castell and said that the police were on their way. He looked like a mummied monkey, but his manner was brisk and businesslike. He was very much in command, and was pleased to approve what had been done.

“Quite right, quite right! The police will want to see everyone-they said so. And of course nothing must be touched. But we’re not all here. Who’s missing? I don’t see Mildred- or the Thorpe-Enningtons… Yes, that’s it-Mildred, and the Thorpe-Enningtons, and Annie Castell.”

Fogarty bounded into the conversation. He didn’t exactly run his hands through his hair and tear it out, but he gave the impression that he might do so at any moment.

“Annie?” he said on a piercingly interrogative note. “And what has Annie got to do with it? Does anyone imagine that she rises from her bed in the middle of the night to assassinate the best waiter we have ever had? I am her husband, and I can tell you that when she is in her bed she stays there, and that when she puts on her clothes it takes her three-quarters of an hour.”