"Now
then, boys, put 'em there on the couch. Poor things! I warn you, Sir
Nigel, this isn't going to be a pleasant sight, but you've got to go
through with it, I'm afraid. The police'll want identification made, of
course. Hadn't you better 'phone the local branch? Someone ought to be
here in charge, you know."
Merriton nodded. He was so stunned at the actuality of these two men's
deaths, at the knowledge that their bodies--lifeless, extinct--were here
in his morning room, that he had stood like an image, making no move, no
sound.
"Yes--yes," he said, rapidly, waving a hand in Borkins's direction. "See
that it's done at once, please. Tell Constable Roberts to come along with
a couple of his men. Very decent of these chaps to give you a hand, Mr.
Lake. That's your man, Dollops, isn't it, Headland? Well, hadn't he
better take 'em downstairs and give 'em a stiff whisky-and-soda? I expect
the poor beggars have need of it."
Cleek held up a silencing hand.
"No," he said, firmly. "Not just yet, I think. They may be needed for
evidence when the constable comes.
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