THE MURDER

I got out the car in next to no time, and drove rapidly to Fernly. Jumping out, I pulled the bell impatiently. There was some delay in answering, and I rang again. Then I heard the rattle of the chain and Parker, his impassivity of countenance quite unmoved, stood in the open doorway. I pushed past him into the hall. “Where is he?” I demanded sharply. “I beg your pardon, sir?” “Your master. Mr. Ackroyd. Don’t stand there staring at me, man. Have you notified the police?” “The police, sir? Did you say the police?” Parker stared at me as though I were a ghost. “What’s the matter with you, Parker? If, as you say, your master has been murdered——” A gasp broke from Parker.