“‘What enemies could so young a man have made? Murdered? I can hardly believe it.’ When Box arrived at Dorset House, he saw that all the blinds had been pulled down as the great mansion prepared to become a house of mourning. Both the entrance and the exit to the wide carriage drive giving on to Dorset Gardens were manned by uniformed constables. Only two days previously, it had been a house of rejoicing. Field Marshal Sir John Claygate stood in front of the fireplace in the spacious drawing...-room of the house. His face was pale and drawn, and his eyes held an expression of mute bewilderment, but his voice was firm. The old soldier was showing the world that, as always in the past, he was unbowed by even the most personal of sorrows. ‘Sir,’ said Box, choosing his words carefully, ‘twenty-six is quite old enough for a man to make enemies. I gather that Mr Maurice Claygate was fond of the gaming tables, and that his income was such as to cover easily any losses he might have incurred.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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