Chapter 27At noon, when the garden was sweltering luxuriously in the full heat of the day and the house was peaceful in that odd Sunday quiet which is mysteriously different from the peace of other days, Uncle William let himself into Campion’s room and advanced to the end of the bed.
He stood there for some little time, his hands in the pockets of his white trousers and his shoulders bent dejectedly. He looked more bearlike than ever.
“Awake, Campion?”
The man on the bed regarded his old friend steadily. His appearance gave no indication that he had slept at all. His eyes were cold and wakeful and the skin was drawn tightly over the bones of his face.
“Feller came and took Miss Finbrough off to help the police,” observed Uncle William presently. “Didn’t hear the rights of it. Somethin
