Chapter Thirty-eightSudden death has its own dreadful routine. Those who serve it came into Abigail Salt’s house and went about their business there without reference to her—Detective Sergeant Abbott, a police surgeon, a police photographer, a fingerprint man. Miss Silver sat with Abigail in the upstairs parlour whilst they were at their work. Presently Katharine joined them there. William was making a statement downstairs. They had put an outer covering right over the pot of apple honey and its contents and brought it with them. They had brought the little cut-glass dish heaped up with amber jelly, the two dead flies still lying on it.
Katharine was very white and still. She went over to Abigail Salt and took her hand.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs. Salt—so dreadfully sorry. She couldn’t have know
