J. S. Fletcher

The Talleyrand Maxim J. S. Fletcher

"It's old Mr. Bartle, sir," he whispered. "He's in your room there -- dead!"

"Dead?" exclaimed Eldrick. "Dead!"

Pratt shook his head again.

"He came up not so long after you'd gone, sir," he said. "Everybody had gone but me -- I was just going. Wanted to see you about something I don't know what. He was very tottery when he came in -- complained of the stairs and the fog. I took him into your room, to sit down in the easy chair. And -- he died straight off. Just," concluded Pratt, "just as if he was going quietly to sleep!"

"You're sure he is dead? -- not fainting?" asked Eldrick.

"He's dead, sir -- quite dead," replied Pratt. "I've rung up Dr. Melrose -- he'll be here in a minute or two -- and the Town Hall -- the police -- as well. Will you look at him, sir?"