"It wasn't a cry," was his quick reply. "It was something quite different, but dreadful, dreadful!"
Mr. Gryce's manner changed.
"Then you did hear it. You were near enough to distinguish between a scream and a gasp. Where were you, and why weren't you seen by my man when he went through the building?"
"I—I was kneeling out of sight—too shocked to move. But I grew tired of that and wanted to go; but on reaching the court, I found the doors closed. So I came here."
"Kneeling! Where were you kneeling?"
He made a quick gesture in the direction of the galleries.
The detective frowned, perhaps to hide his secret satisfaction.
"Won't you be a little more definite?" he asked; then as the man continued to hesitate he added, but as yet without any appreciable loss of kindliness: "Every other person here has been good enough to show us the exact place he was occupying at that serious moment. I must ask you to do the same; it is only just."
Was the look this called up one of fear or of simple repugnance? It might be either; but the detective was disposed to consider it fear.
"Will you lead the way?" he pursued. "I shall be glad to follow."