.."
"And Star," put in Mr. Marigold who had Radical tendencies.
"The Star, too, by all means. That ought to cover the extent of
your pal's newspaper reading, I fancy, eh, Marigold! Right!"
He held out a hand in farewell. But Mr. Marigold stood his
ground. He was rather a slow mover, and there were a lot of
things he wanted to discuss with the Chief.
"I was very sorry to see poor Major Okewood in the casualty list
this morning, sir," he said. "I was going to ask you..."
"All terrible, terrible!" said the Chief. Then he added:
"Just tell Miss Mackwayte I want her as you go out, will you?"
The detective was used to surprises but the Chief still bowled
him out occasionally. Before he knew what he was doing, Mr.
Marigold found himself in the ante-room doing as he was bid.
As soon as her father's funeral was over; Barbara had insisted on
returning to work. The whole ghastly business of the murder and
the inquest that followed seemed to her like a bad dream which
haunted her day and night. By tacit consent no one in the office
had made any further allusion, to the tragedy. She had just
slipped back into her little niche, prompt, punctual, efficient
as ever.
"No, it's not for the letters," the Chief said to her as she came
in with her notebook and pencil.
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