CHAPTER XI
A NIGHT IN THE FLEMING HOME
I HAD a tearful message from Hawes late that afternoon, and a little after five I went to the office. I found him offering late editions of the evening paper to a couple of clients, who were edging toward the door. His expression when he saw me was pure relief, the clients’, relief strongly mixed with irritation.
I put the best face on the matter that I could, saw my visitors, and left alone, prepared to explain to Hawes what I could hardly explain to myself.
“I’ve been unavoidably detained, Hawes,” I said, “Miss Jane Maitland has disappeared from her home.”
“So I understood you over the telephone.” He had brought my mail and stood by impassive.
“Also, her brother-in-law is dead.”
“The papers are full of it.”
“There was no one to do anythin
