After a quick shower I dressed and went down to the piazza, where I was joined by the three men. For a while we talked of various people we knew, and then Ranville and Bartley got into a discussion as to where was the best place to eat in London. Then, as there came a lull in the conversation, Carter looked at his watch and said that Patton was late. He was just on the point of saying something else when the telephone in the hall rang shrilly. As I was nearest the door, I rose and, going into the house, took the receiver from the hook. For a moment I had trouble in hearing the person at the other end. And then all at once the line was clear, and I recognized Patton's voice—broken and hesitating but very much excited and at the same time filled with horror. The first question he asked was who was talking. I told him and there came a pause. Then came the gasping, excited words in a voice which shook: “Pelt, for God's sake, get Bartley and Carter down to the library. I am in here with the gardener, and the man's dead—murdered.” I gave a startled cry and stammered out something. What it was I said I do not know; but he was too excited to say more. Then came his voice again, breaking with excitement, as he cried: “Get them down here quick, Pelt—it is murder.” Chapter XV Another Murder Dumbfounded, I stood holding the receiver, too dazed to even move. Then, frantically, I called Patton's name, though the sharp click which came when he hurriedly placed the receiver on the hook told me he had rung off. Hastily hanging up the receiver, I rushed into the living room and halted by the door. At my sudden appearance, there was a pause in the conversation. Bartley's eyes came to my face, rested, and he rose quickly to his feet, his face very grave. “What is it?” came his quick question. “Another murder—at Warren's,” I stammered. I saw Ranville's face stiffen into attention as he slowly rose. Bartley's keen eyes never left my face, and a trace of anxiety swept across his face. Carter looked as though he did not believe me, but he asked quickly: “Who? What do you mean?” I told them in a few words of Patton's voice and what he had said. As I named the young professor, I saw that Bartley was not only relieved, but also he seemed rather puzzled. His eyes opened wider when I said he had told me the gardener had been murdered. But at the statement that Patton wanted us to come at once, they all started for the door. Carter, as he rushed out into the hall, said he would get his big car from the garage. Bartley, with a sharp command to wait a moment while he went to his room, rushed up the stairs. Ranville and myself went out on the veranda and watched Carter rush across the grass and fling open the garage door. Immediately there came the first sharp explosion of the engine, and then it settled into a steady roar. He backed in a sweeping circle to the drive. By the time we reached the lawn Bartley came rushing down the steps with a bag in his hand.