"Megan found the body, I hear," I said.
"I hope somebody is looking after her."
I will say for Elsie Holland that she looked conscience-stricken.
"Oh, dear," she said.
"I forgot all about her.
I do hope she's all right.
I've been so rushed, you know, and the police and everything - but it was remiss of me.
Poor girl, she must be feeling bad.
I'll go and look for her at once."
I relented. "She's all right," I said.
"Rose is looking after her.
You get along to the kids."
She thanked me with a flash of white tombstone teeth and hurried upstairs.
After all, the boys were her job, and not Megan! Megan was nobody's job.
Elsie was paid to look after Symmington's blinking brats.
One could hardly blame her for attending to it.
As she flashed around the corner of the stairs, I caught my breath.
For a minute I caught a glimpse of a Winged Victory, deathless and incredibly beautiful, instead of a conscientious nursery governess.
Then a door opened and Superintendent Nash stepped out into the hall with Symmington behind him.
"Oh, Mr. Burton," he said,
"I was just going to telephone you.
I'm glad you are here."
He didn't ask me - then - why I was here.
He turned his head and said to Symmington,
"I'll use this room if I may."
It was a small morning room with a window on the front of the house.
"Certainly, certainly."
Symmington's poise was pretty good, but he looked desperately tired.
Superintendent Nash said gently:
"I should have some breakfast if I were you, Mr. Symmington.
You and Miss Holland and Miss Megan will feel much better after coffee and eggs and bacon.
Murder is a nasty business on an empty stomach."
He spoke in a comfortable family-doctor kind of way.
Symmington gave a faint attempt at a smile and said,
"Thank you, Superintendent, I'll take your advice."
I followed Nash into the little morning room and he shut the door.
He said then,
"You've got here very quickly?
How did you hear?"
I told him that Megan had rung me up.
I felt well-disposed toward Superintendent Nash.
He, at any rate, had not forgotten that Megan, too, would be in need of breakfast.
"I hear that you telephoned last night, Mr. Burton, asking about this girl?
Why was that?"
I suppose it did seem odd.
I told him about Agnes' telephone call to Partridge and her nonappearance.
He said,
"Yes, I see."
He said it slowly and reflectively, rubbing his chin.
Then he sighed.