The Lady is Dead. Patrick Laing

      I could feel him staring at me in blank incredulity. “And all the time you were over there with me, I never so much as suspected you couldn’t see!” he exclaimed. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

      He returned to the matter that had brought him. “Is there anybody else here who could identify Fordyce?” he inquired.

      “My wife could,” I replied, even then not guessing what awful purpose lay behind his question. “I’ll call her.”

      “No, don’t,” he stopped me. “This is hardly a job for a lady. What’s happened is, we’ve found a body in there where the fire was, and we think it might be his.”