Allen ran, then, to the den, to tell them there that the danger was past.
He entered to see Samuel Appleby dead in his chair, with a bullet through his heart. Daniel Wheeler stood beside him, gazing distractedly at the dead man. Maida, white and trembling, was half hidden as she stood just inside the curtains of the window.
Not realizing that there was no hope of life, Allen shouted for help, and tore open Appleby’s coat to feel his heart.
“He’s quite dead,” he said, in an awe-stricken tone. “But, we must get a doctor at once!”
“I’ll telephone,” spoke up Genevieve’s quiet voice, and with her usual efficiency, she found the number and called the doctor.
“Now the police?” she went on, as if such matters belonged to her province.
“Certainly,” said Curtis Keefe, who stood by his late employer, taking charge, by common consent.
“Who killed him?” said Genevieve, in a hushed tone, as she left the telephone.
All looked from one to another, but nobody replied.
“I knew it!” she cried; “the phantom bugler!”
“But the phantom bugler didn’t kill him,” said Genevieve, “and we must find out who did!”
Late the same evening the Wheeler family and their guests were gathered in the living-room. Much had been done in the past few hours. The family doctor had been there, the medical examiner had been called and had given his report, and the police had come and were still present.
Samuel Appleby, junior—though no longer to be called by that designation—was expected at any moment.
Two detectives were there, but one, Hallen by name, said almost nothing, seeming content to listen, while his colleague conducted the questioning of the household.
Burdon, the talkative one, was a quick-thinking, clear-headed chap, decided of manner and short of speech.
“Now, look here,” he was saying, “this was an inside job, of course. Might have been one of the servants, or might have been any of you folks. How many of you are ready to help me in my investigations by telling all you know?”
“I thought we had to do that, whether we’re ready to or not,” spoke up Genevieve, who was not at all abashed by the presence of the authorities. “Of course, we’ll all tell all we know—we want to find the murderer just as much as you do.”