"
There was a pause at the Scotland Yard end of the telephone. Inspector
Chippenfield was evidently thinking hard.
"We may have been hoaxed," he said at length. "But I have been ringing
up his house and can get no answer. You had better send up a couple of
men there at once--better still, go yourself. It is a matter which may
require tactful handling. Let me know, and I'll come out immediately if
there is anything wrong. Stay! How long will it take you to get up to
the house?"
"Not more than fifteen minutes--in a taxi."
"Well, I'll ring you up at the house in half an hour. Should our
information be correct see that everything is left exactly as you find it
till I arrive."
Inspector Seldon hung up the receiver of his telephone, bundled up the
papers scattered on his desk, closed it, and stepped out of his office
into the next room.
"Anyone about?" he hurriedly asked the sergeant who was making entries in
the charge-book.
"Yes, sir. I saw Flack here a moment ago."
"Get him at once and call a taxi. Scotland Yard's rung through to say
they've received a report that Sir Horace Fewbanks has been murdered."
"Murdered?" echoed the sergeant in a tone of keen interest.
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