She suffered from shortness of breath, it appears, and had a horror of stairs; she was, moreover, not the least bit nervous, and her windows were usually barred and shuttered.

“One very curious fact, however, at once struck all those present, even before the arrival of the detectives, and that was, that the old lady was partially dressed when she was found lying on the ground. She had slipped on an elaborate dressing-gown, had smoothed her hair, and put on her slippers. In fact, it was evident that she had in some measure prepared herself for the reception of the burglar.

“Throughout these hasty and amateurish observations conducted by Lord Barnsdale and two of his male guests, Alice Holt had remained seated beside her late employer’s bedside sobbing bitterly. In spite of Lord Barnsdale’s entreaties she refused to move; and wildly waved aside any attempt at consolation offered to her by one or two of the older female servants who were present.

“It was only when everybody at last made up their minds to return to their rooms, that someone mentioned Lady Barnsdale’s name. She had been taken ill and faint the evening before, and had not been well all night. Jane Barlow, her maid, expressed the hope that her ladyship was none the worse for this awful commotion, and must be wondering what it all meant.

“At this, suddenly, Alice Holt jumped up, like a madwoman.

“‘What it all means?’ she shrieked, whilst everyone looked at her in speechless horror. ‘It means that that woman has murdered my mistress, and robbed her. I know it – I know it – I know it!’

“And once more sinking beside the bed, she covered her dead mistress’ hand with kisses, and sobbed and wailed as if her heart would break.”

2

“You may well imagine the awful commotion the girl’s wild outburst had created in the old Manor House. Lady Barnsdale had been taken ill the previous evening, and, of course, no one had breathed a word of it to her, but equally, of course, it was freely talked about at Barnsdale Manor, in the neighbourhood, and even so far as in the London clubs.

“Lord and Lady Barnsdale were very well known in London society, and Lord Barnsdale’s adoration for his beautiful wife was quite notorious.

“Alice Holt, after her frantic outburst, had not breathed another word. Silent and sullen she went up to her room, packed her things, and left the house, where, of course, it became impossible that she should stay another day. She refused Lord Barnsdale’s generous offer of money and help, and only stayed long enough to see the detectives and reply to the questions they thought fit to put to her.

“The whole neighbourhood was in a fever of excitement; many gossips would have it that the evidence against Lady Barnsdale was conclusive, and that a warrant for her arrest had already been applied for.

“What had transpired was this:

“It appears that the day preceding the tragedy, Bridge was, as usual, being played for, I believe, guinea-points. Lord Barnsdale was out shooting all day, and though the guests at the Manor were very loyal to their hostess, and refused to make any positive statements, there seems to be no doubt that Lady Barnsdale lost a very large sum of money to Sir Gilbert Culworth.

“Be that as it may, nothing further could be gleaned by enterprising reporters fresh from town; the police were more than usually reticent, and everyone eagerly awaited the opening of the inquest, when sensational developments were expected in this mysterious case.

“It was held on September the 25th, in the servants’ hall of Barnsdale Manor, and you may be sure that the large room was crowded to its utmost capacity. Lord Barnsdale was, of course, present, so was Sir Gilbert Culworth, but it was understood that Lady Barnsdale was still suffering from nervous prostration, and was unable to be present.

“When I arrived there, and gradually made my way to the front rank, the doctor who had been originally summoned to the murdered lady’s bedside was giving his evidence.

“He gave it as his opinion that the fractured skull from which Mme Quesnard died was caused through her hitting the back of her head against the corner of the marble-topped washstand, in the immediate proximity of which she lay outstretched, when Lord Barnsdale first forced open the door. The stains on the marble had confirmed him in that opinion. Mme Quesnard, he thought, must have fallen, owing to an onslaught made upon her by the burglar; the marks round the old lady’s throat testified to this, although these were not the cause of death.

“After this there was a good deal of police evidence with regard to the subsequent movements of the unknown miscreant. He had undoubtedly broken open the drawer of the bureau in the adjoining boudoir, the door of communication between this and Mme Quesnard’s bedroom being always kept open, and it was presumed that he had made a considerable haul both in gold and notes. He had then locked the bedroom door on the inside and made good his escape through the window.

“Immediately beneath this window, the flower-bed, muddy with the recent rain, bore the imprint of having been hastily trampled upon; but all actual footmarks had been carefully obliterated. Beyond this, all round the house the garden paths are asphalted, and the burglar had evidently taken the precaution to keep to these asphalted paths, or else to cross the garden by the lawns.

“You must understand,” continued the man in the corner, after a slight pause, “that throughout all this preliminary evidence, everything went to prove that the crime had been committed by an inmate of the house or at any rate by someone well acquainted with its usages and its ménage. Alice Holt, whose room was immediately above that of Mme. Quesnard, and who was, therefore, most likely to hear the noise of the conflict and to run to her mistress’s assistance, had been first of all locked up in her room. It had, therefore, become quite evident that the miscreant had commenced operations from inside the house, and had entered Mme Quesnard’s room by the door, and not by the window, as had been at first supposed.

“But,” added the funny creature excitedly, “as the old lady had, according to evidence, locked her door that night, it became more and more clear, as the case progressed, that she must of her own accord have admitted the person who subsequently caused her tragic death. This was, of course, confirmed by the fact that she was partially dressed when she was subsequently found dead.

“Strangely enough, with the exception of Alice Holt, no one else had heard any noise during the night. But, as I remarked before, the walls of these old houses are very thick, and no one else slept on the ground floor.

“Another fact which in the early part of the inquest went to prove that the outrage was committed by someone familiar with the house, was that Ben, the watchdog, had not raised any alarm. His kennel was quite close to Mme Quesnard’s windows, and he had not even barked.

“I doubt if the law would take official cognizance of the dumb testimony of a dog; nevertheless, Ben’s evidence was in this case quite worthy of consideration.

“You may imagine how gradually, as these facts were unfolded, excitement grew to fever pitch, and when at last Alice Holt was called, everyone literally held their breath, eagerly waiting to hear what was coming.

“She is a tall, handsome-looking girl, with fine eyes and a rich voice. Dressed in deep black she certainly looked an imposing figure as she stood there, repeating the story of how she was awakened in the night by the sound of her mistress’ angry voice, of the noise and sudden silence, and also of her terror, when she found that she had been locked up in her room.

“But obviously the girl had more to tell, and was only waiting for the coroner’s direct question.

“‘Will you tell the jury the reason why you made such an extraordinary and unwarrantable accusation against Lady Barnsdale?’ he asked her at last, amid breathless silence in the crowded room.

“Everyone instinctively looked across the room to where Lord Barnsdale sat between his friend Sir Gilbert Culworth and his lawyer, Sir Arthur Inglewood, who had evidently come down from London in order to watch the case on his client’s behalf. Alice Holt, too, looked across at Lord Barnsdale for a moment. He seemed attentive and interested, but otherwise quite calm and impassive.

“I, who watched the girl, saw a look of pity cross her face as she gazed at him, and I think, when we bear in mind that the distinguished English gentleman and the poor paid companion had known each other years ago, when they were girl and boy together in old Mme Quesnard’s French home, we may make a pretty shrewd guess why Alice Holt hated the beautiful Lady Barnsdale.

“‘It was about six o’clock in the afternoon,’ she began at last, in the same quiet tone of voice.