CHAPTER 11
AND SO TO BEDBack in the morning-room Uncle William began to show signs of coherent thought again. The motley of veins on his face had multiplied and he appeared to be on the point of exhaustion.
‘Not a sign of it, Campion,’ he said huskily. ‘There’s some very dirty work going on here.’
His companion tactfully refrained from observing that so much must have been obvious for some time, and the older man continued.
‘There were some cartridges up here, too,’ he said. ‘I remember now. They were lying loose at the bottom of the trunk. I shall get into hot water, I suppose, when the police hear about this.’ He lowered his voice and peered at Campion, his little blue eyes watery with apprehension. ‘Do they know what sort of a bullet killed Andrew?’ he said. ‘Haven’t you heard? This
