"I say!" said Viner in the hushed voice of one who imparts strange and
confidential tidings. "There's a man lying dead in the passage round
here. And without doubt murdered! There's blood all over his
shirt-front."
The policeman stood stock still for the fraction of a second. Then he
pulled out his whistle and blew loudly and insistently. Before the
shrill call had died away, he was striding towards the passage, with
Viner at his side.
"Did you find him, Mr. Viner?" he asked.
"I found him," asserted Viner. "Just now--halfway down the passage!"
"Sure he's dead, sir?"
"Dead--yes! And murdered, too! And--"
He was about to mention the hurrying young man, but they had just then
arrived at the mouth of the passage, and the policeman once more drew out
his whistle and blew more insistently than before.
"There's my sergeant and inspector not far off," he remarked. "Some of
'em'll be on the spot in a minute or two. Now then, sir."
He marched down the passage to the dead man, glanced at the lamp, and
turning on his own lantern, directed its light on the body.
"God bless me!" he muttered.
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