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HERE was time for no further talk, for the taxi drew up at that moment before the house. The doctor's sedan was just rolling away; and in answer to Titheredge's ring the housemaid, a plump young woman with cap askew, admitted them.

"Is Peters busy, Jane?" asked the attorney as he handed her his hat and stick.

"No, sir. We can't find Peters anywhere, though we've been looking this half hour. Miss Meade didn't send him on no errand, and we don't know what to think of it."

"He'll probably turn up shortly," Titheredge observed with a significant glance at the detective. "Has Mr. Lorne been taken upstairs yet?"

"No, sir. He refuses to go; and Miss Meade, she don't know what to do! There, he's calling now, sir!"

And indeed an irascible but reassuringly strong voice was reverberating through the hall from the direction of the library.

"Sam! Is that you? Did you get him? Sa-am!"

"Come this way, Sergeant." The attorney led the way to the library, where Richard Lorne still lay upon the couch. His clothing had been changed for a dressing-gown with one sleeve cut out, and the arm was neatly bandaged in a 37