There was a
great, gaping, raw wound at the side of the throat that caused Enid
to shudder.
"Do you think he is--dead, Williams?" she asked.
"No such luck as that," Williams said, with the air of a confirmed
pessimist. "I hope you locked that there bedroom door and put the key in
your pocket, miss. I suppose we'd better send for the doctor, unless you
and me puts him out of his misery. There's one comfort, however, Mr.
Henson will be in bed for the next fortnight, at any rate, so he'll be
powerless to do any prying about the house. The funeral will be over long
before he's about again."
* * * * *
The first grey streaks of dawn were in the air as Enid stood outside the
lodge-gates. She was not alone, for a neat figure in grey, marvellously
like her, was by her side. The figure in grey was dressed for travelling
and she carried a bag in her hand.
"Good-bye, dear, and good luck to you," she said. "It is dangerous
to delay."
"You have absolutely everything that you require?" Enid asked.
"Everything. By the time you are at breakfast I shall be in London. And
once I am there the search for the secret will begin in earnest.
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