“Very likely,” said Colonel Bantry indistinctly. “I quite agree with you. Dolly,” and promptly went to sleep again.
Mrs. Bantry shook him. “You’ve got to listen. Mary came in and said that there was a body in the library.” “Eh, what?” “A body in the library” “Who said so?” “Mary.”
Colonel Bantry collected his scattered faculties and proceeded to deal with the situation. He said, “Nonsense, old girl! You’ve been dreaming.”
“No, I haven’t. I thought so, too, at first. But I haven’t. She really came in and said so.”
“Mary came in and said there was a body in the library?” “Yes.” “But there couldn’t be,” said Colonel Bantry. “No no, I suppose not,” said Mrs. Bantry doubtfully. Rallying, she went on, “But then why did Mary say there was?” “She can’t have.” “She did.” “You must have imagined it.” “I didn’t imagine it.” Colonel Bantry was by now thoroughly awake and prepared to deal with the situation on its merits. He said kindly, “You’ve been dreaming. Dolly. It’s that detective story you were reading The Clue of the Broken Match. You know. Lord Edgbaston finds a beautiful blonde dead on the library hearth rug Bodies are always being found in libraries in books. I’ve never known a case in real life.”
“Perhaps you will now,” said Mrs. Bantry, “Anyway Arthur, you’ve got to get up and see.”
“But really. Dolly, it must have been a dream. Dreams often do seem wonderfully vivid when you first wake up. You feel quite sure they’re true.”
“I was having quite a different sort of dream about a flower show and the vicar’s wife in a bathing dress, something like that.” Mrs. Bantry jumped out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The light of a fine autumn day flooded the room. “I did not dream it,” said Mrs. Bantry firmly. “Get up at once, Arthur, and go downstairs and see about it.”
“You want me to go downstairs and ask if there’s a body in the library? I shall look a fool.”
“You needn’t ask anything,” said Mrs. Bantry. “If there is a body and of course it’s just possible that Mary’s gone mad and thinks she sees things that aren’t there well, somebody will tell you soon enough. You won’t have to say a word.”
Grumbling, Colonel Bantry wrapped himself in his dressing gown and left the room. He went along the passage and down the staircase. At the foot of it was a little knot of huddled servants; some of them were sobbing. The butler stepped forward impressively. “I’m glad you have come, sir. I have directed that nothing should be done until you came. Will it be in order for me to ring up the police, sir?”
“Ring ’em up about what?”
The butler cast a reproachful glance over his shoulder at the tall young woman who was weeping hysterically on the cook’s shoulder. “I understood, sir, that Mary had already informed you. She said she had done so.”
Mary gasped out, “I was so upset, I don’t know what I said! It all came over me again and my legs gave way and my insides turned over! Finding it like that. Oh, oh, oh!”
She subsided again onto Mrs. Eccles, who said, “There, there, my dear,” with some relish.
“Mary is naturally somewhat upset, sir, having been the one to make the gruesome discovery,” exclaimed the butler. “She went into the library, as usual, to draw the curtains, and — and almost stumbled over the body.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” demanded Colonel Bantry, “that there’s a dead body in my library — my library?”
The butler coughed. “Perhaps, sir, you would like to see for yourself.”
“Hullo, ‘ullo, ‘ullo. Police station here. Yes, who’s speaking?” Police Constable Palk was buttoning up his tunic with one hand while the other held the telephone receiver. “Yes, yes, Gossington Hall. Yes?… Oh, good morning, sir.” Police Constable Palk’s tone underwent a slight modification. It became less impatiently official, recognizing the generous patron of the police sports and the principal magistrate of the district. “Yes, sir? What can I do for you?… I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t quite catch… A body, did you say?… Yes?… Yes, if you please, sir…. That’s right, sir…. Young woman not known to you, you say?… Quite, sir…. Yes, you can leave it all to me.”