CHAPTER FOURTEENLast Will
The party in the drawing-room had resolved itself into its elements. Mason sat tipped back against the wall on the right of the dining-room door, arms folded and chin on chest. His colour was bad; he looked like a man half-stunned. Percy stood facing the hearth. His hands gripped the mantel ledge, and his eyes were on the embers of the neglected fire. Susie Burt had curled down into a corner of the big sofa until only the crown of her head was visible above its rounded back. Evelyn Wing stood beside a table between the east windows; she turned the pages of a magazine slowly, as if counting them. Mrs. Deedes—Gamadge stopped in the doorway to stare at her—was again occupied with planchette. Rescued from yet another chamber of death, it had been placed on the consol
