They looked at each other with white faces. "Found dead in his bed! Strangled! We must keep it from them at home, Dick." "Impossible, uncle. Listen--there's another boy shouting it out. Let's get back to the house." They read as they walked, Uncle Rob holding the paper, and Dick looking over his shoulder. "What is it--what is it?" cried Aunt Rob, meeting them in the passage. "If it's true, it's murder," said Uncle Rob. "Come into the room, and shut the door. Speak low. Is Florence upstairs?" "Yes. Wait a minute." She stepped softly to the room above, and quickly returned. "Reginald is dozing, and Florence has fallen asleep in her chair. The poor child is tired out. Murder! Where? In Catchpole Square?" "Yes." "Reginald's father?" "Yes." She uttered a cry of horror. "I must go to the office at once." "Dick! You're not going, too?" "I can't stop, aunt. I must go with uncle." He was in a fever of impatience to get out of the house. "Do what you can, mother, to keep it from Florence," said Uncle Rob, hurriedly. "If it comes to her ears tell her we've gone to see about it. Now, then, Dick." "Leave me the paper, father. How horrible! How horrible!" "Here it is; don't let Florence see it. We'll get another as we go along." As they hastened to Bishop Street Station he said, "This is a bad business, Dick." "A frightful business." "I wonder if Mr. Boyd made a will." "Ah, I wonder." "If he hasn't his money falls to Reginald. The chances are, though, that there's a will, disinheriting him." "Do you think so?" asked Dick. "Don't you?" his uncle asked, in return. "I don't know what to think. Time will show." "It will show a good many things. It's got to show what has become of Abel Death. I'm sorry for his wife and that poor little girl." "I'm sorry for a good many people," said Dick. His uncle cast a hurried look at him. "I don't mean anything. My head's in a whirl." "No wonder. There's another boy shouting the news. Run after him and get a paper." They both raced, and bought two copies. The boy's face was beaming. "He's happy enough," said Inspector Robson. At the police station they learned that two constables had been sent to Catchpole Square to ascertain whether the news was true. "I've given them instructions," said the day inspector, "if they can't get into the house by the front door, to scale the wall at the back. I can't say I like the way this case has been got up. Those newspaper men are getting too meddlesome altogether." "But if it's true," suggested Inspector Robson.