Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/58

backed chair. She had been stabbed through the heart; her priceless ivory gown was stained with crimson. Outside, that little group of her admirers continued to sing fervently their serenade.

Julie knelt by the star’s side, and Bradshaw looked away. In a moment he went over and lifted the girl to her feet. “We'd better go,” he said gently. “There’s nothing we can do.”

He led her to the door. She looked up at him through her tears. “But who—who———” she murmured.

“Ah, yes———” he answered. “That, I’m afraid, is the big question now.”

He found, on the inside of the pavilion door, an unexpected key. They went outside, and the boy locked the door, putting the key in his pocket. Slowly they walked back to the house. Huntley Van Horn greeted them.

“Did you tell Shelah?” he said. “The stage is all set. Her guests are gathered in the living-room, her great public is singing lustily at the door—it’s a grand entrance———” He stopped at sight of Julie’s face.

“What’s happened?” cried Rita Ballou shrilly.

Bradshaw stood looking about the little group. Jessop came in and, picking up the silver tray on which he had served the cocktails, prepared to collect the empty glasses. Outside the door, The Song of the Islands trailed off into silence.

“Shelah Fane has been murdered in the pavilion,” said the boy in a low voice.

There was a sudden crash. Jessop had been guilty of his first error in forty years of service. He had dropped the silver tray.