“Now, ma’am, you don’t put that just right. You see, the police are the people who must settle that doubt. It’s that very doubt that makes it necessary to call them. And, truly, Mrs. Ernbury, it won’t be any such horrible ordeal as you seem to anticipate. They’re decent men, and all they want to get at is the truth.” “That isn’t so!” Eunice was angry again. “They’re horrible men! rude, unkempt, low-down, common men! I won’t have them in my house! You have no right to insist on it. They’ll be all over the rooms, prying into everything, looking here, there and all over! They’ll ask impertinent questions; they’ll assume all sorts of things that aren’t true, and they’ll wind up by coming to a positively false conclusion! Alvord, Mason, you’re my friends--help me out! Don’t, let this man do as he threatens!” “Listen, Eunice,” Elliott said, striving to quiet her; “we can’t help the necessity Dr. Crowell sees of notifying the police. But we can help you. Only, however, if you’ll be sensible, dear, and trust to our word that it can’t be helped, and you must let it go on quietly.” “Oh, hush up, Mason; your talk drives me crazy! Alvord, are you a broken reed, too? Is there nobody to stand by me?” “I’ll try,” and Hendricks went and spoke to Dr. Crowell in low tones. A whispered colloquy followed, but it soon became clear that Hendricks’ pleas, of whatever nature, were unsuccessful, and he returned to Eunice’s side. “Nothing doing,” he said, with an attempt at lightness. “He won’t listen to reason--nor to bribery and corruption--” this last was said openly and with a smile that robbed the idea of any real seriousness. And then Dr. Crowell again lifted the telephone and called up Headquarters. Chapter IX Hamlet Of the two detectives who arrived in response to the Examiner’s call, one almost literally fulfilled Eunice’s prophecy of a rude, unkempt, common man. His name was Shane and he strode into the room with a bumptious, self-important air, his burly frame looking especially awkward and unwieldy in the gentle surroundings. His companion, however, a younger man named Driscoll, was of a finer type, and showed at least an appreciation of the nature of the home which he had entered. “We’re up from the homicide bureau,” Shane said to Dr. Crowell, quite ignoring the others present. “Tell us all you know.” In the fewest possible words the Medical Examiner did this, and Shane paid close attention. Driscoll listened, too, but his glance, instead of being fixed on the speaker, darted from one to another of the people sitting round. He noted carefully Eunice’s beautiful, angry face, as she sat, looking out of a window, disdaining any connection with the proceedings. He watched Miss Ames, nervously rolling her handkerchief into a ball and shaking it out again; Mason Elliott, calm, grave, and earnestly attentive; Alvord Hendricks, alert, eager, sharply critical. And in the background, Ferdinand, the well-trained butler, hovering in the doorway.