Violet’s eyes, bright as stars, suddenly narrowed.
“And what happened then?” she asked. “Why cannot they find the bullet?”
“Because it went out of the window;—glanced off and went out of the window.”
Mrs. Hammond’s tone was triumphant; her look spirited and intense.
Violet eyed her compassionately.
“Would a bullet glancing off from a mirror, however hung, be apt to reach a window so far on the opposite side?”
“I don’t know; I only know that it did,” was the contradictory, almost absurd, reply.
“What was the cause of the quarrel you speak of between your husband and yourself? You see, I must know the exact truth and all the truth to be of any assistance to you.”
“It was—it was about the care I gave, or didn’t give, the baby. I feel awfully to have to say it, but George did not think I did my full duty by the child. He said there was no need of its crying so; that if I gave it the proper attention it would not keep the neighbours and himself awake half the night. And I—I got angry and insisted that I did the best I could; that the child was naturally fretful and that if he wasn’t satisfied with my way of looking after it, he might try his. All of which was very wrong and unreasonable on my part, as witness the awful punishment which followed.”
“And what made you get up and leave him?”