? ? ? ? It was destined, however, that all my professional caution should be wasted, for next morning the problem obtruded itself upon us in such a way that it was impossible to ignore it, and our country visit took a turn which neither of us could have anticipated. We were at breakfast when the colonel's butler rushed in with all his propriety shaken out of him.
? ? ? ? "Have you heard the news, sir?" he gasped. "At the Cunningham's, sir!"
? ? ? ? "Burglary!" cried the colonel, with his coffee-cup in mid-air.
? ? ? ? "Murder!"
? ? ? ? The colonel whistled. "By Jove!" said he. "Who's killed, then? The J. P. or his son?"
? ? ? ? "Neither, sir. It was William the coachman. Shot through the heart, sir, and never spoke again."
? ? ? ? "Who shot him, then?"
? ? ? ? "The burglar, sir. He was off like a shot and got clean away. He'd just broke in at the pantry window when William came on him and met his end in saving his master's property."
? ? ? ? "What time?"
? ? ? ? "It was last night, sir, somewhere about twelve."
? ? ? ? "Ah, then, we'll step over afterwards," said the colonel coolly settling down to his breakfast again.
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