t I don't understand. How did you find out...."

She broke off, colouring up to the edge of her nurse's veil. To tell
the truth, she could not see how, since Sir Charles only died at four
o'clock this morning, Holliday had received the news in time to be here
in Cannes now, by car, too, all the way from Paris. It seemed
incredible; if he had flown he couldn't have done it.

He shot her a shrewd glance, surmising her reason for being astonished.

"How did I find out Sir Charles was dead? I didn't, at least, not till
a little while ago when I arrived in Cannes and rang up the house. But
I knew he wasn't expected to live more than a day or two. You see,
I've been in communication with--Chalmers more or less during the past
few days. I asked him to keep me posted in case the old man got worse
or anything. Yesterday he telephoned me that there was absolutely no
hope. I hopped into the car and burnt up the road a bit."

He cast an approving glance at his somewhat battered Fiat.

"Fourteen hours from door to door," he remarked with satisfaction. "I
didn't believe she could do it. By the way, I hear the funeral is
arranged for the day after to-morrow. Is that right?"

"I believe so."

"I needn't have broken my neck to get here, after all. Still, there
may be something I can do for the family, as I hear Clifford is on the
sick list.... Is Sartorius still at the house?"

She replied that he was and, bidding a hasty good-bye, got into her
waiting taxi. Once alone, the thoughts stirred up by the young man's
unexpected appearance on the scene buzzed turbulently inside her brain.
She could not get over the surprise of seeing him, nor could she help
remarking how remarkably jovial and carefree he appeared, in spite of
his lowered voice and studious air of reverence when speaking of the
dead man. Moreover, there seemed to her something almost indecent in
the haste with which he had arrived on the spot. It had less the
appearance of solicitude for the sorrowing relatives than the eagerness
of a vulture swooping down upon a good square meal it had long been
hoping for. Had Chalmers really telephoned him? Somehow she could not
believe it, apart from Holliday's very slight hesitation before
pronouncing the butler's name. Whoever it was who gave the information
must have been quite confident of Sir Charles's death, had indeed timed
it with extraordinary accuracy--or so it seemed to her somewhat
stimulated imagina