The old man wheeled round, his hand thrust hastily behind him. He swore violently, entirely forgetting his erstwhile efforts to keep quiet. The house echoed with his voice. Doors began to open on the floor above, and Joyce appeared from her room on the other side of the hall. She was half asleep, and her hair fell over the shoulders of her dressing-gown.
‘What is it? What’s the matter? Aunt Kitty, what are you doing?’
The little figure in the fussy flannelette nightgown tottered out into the moonlight.
‘His hand! His hand!’ said Aunt Kitty breathlessly. ‘Look at his hand! Someone else has been murdered!’ And again the high hysterical shriek broke from her lips.
It was at this moment that the door of Great-aunt Caroline’s room opened and a figure, infinitesimally small shorn of its pett
