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"I am Inspector Neele. I'm afraid I have bad news for you."<br />
"Do you mean - a burglary - something <strong>of</strong> that kind?"<br />
"No, nothing <strong>of</strong> that kind. It is about your husband. He was taken seriously ill this morning."<br />
"Rex? Ill?"<br />
"We have been trying to get in touch with you since half-past eleven this morning."<br />
"Where is he? Here? Or in hospital?"<br />
"He was taken to St Jude's Hospital. I'm afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock."<br />
"You don't mean - he isn't - dead."<br />
She lurched forward a little and clutched his arm. Gravely feeling like someone playing a part in a<br />
stage performance, the Inspector supported her into the hall. Crump was hovering eagerly.<br />
"Brandy she'll be needing," he said.<br />
The deep voice <strong>of</strong> Mr Dubois said:<br />
"That's right. Crump. Get the brandy." To the Inspector he said: "In here."<br />
He opened a door on the left. The procession filed in. The Inspector and Adele Fortescue, Vivian<br />
Dubois, and Crump with a decanter and two glasses.<br />
Adele Fortescue sank on to an easy chair, her eyes covered with her hand. She accepted the glass that<br />
the Inspector <strong>of</strong>fered and took a tiny sip, then pushed it away.<br />
"I don't want it," she said. "I'm all right. But tell me, what was it? A stroke, I suppose? Poor Rex."<br />
"It wasn't a stroke, Mrs Fortescue."<br />
"Did you say you were an Inspector?" It was Mr Dubois who made the inquiry.<br />
Neele turned to him. "That's right," he said pleasantly. "Inspector Neele <strong>of</strong> the C.I.D."<br />
He saw the alarm grow in the dark eyes. Mr Dubois did not like the appearance <strong>of</strong> an Inspector <strong>of</strong> the<br />
C.I.D. He didn't like it at all.<br />
"What's up?" he said. "Something wrong - eh?"<br />
Quite unconsciously he backed away a little towards the door. Inspector Neele noted the movement.<br />
"I'm afraid," he said to Mrs Fortescue, "that there will have to be an inquest."<br />
"An inquest? Do you mean - what do you mean?"<br />
"I'm afraid this is all very distressing for you, Mrs Fortescue." The words came smoothly. "It seemed<br />
advisable to find out as soon as possible exactly what Mr Fortescue had to eat or drink before leaving<br />
for the <strong>of</strong>fice this morning."