“What time was that?”
“About half-past twelve, it would be, or a little later, I think,” debated Spencer.
“Ah!” the inspector made a note in his book. “What was she like—the woman you met?”
“Well, she was tall with rather bright yellow hair and—and she had powder all over her face. The curious thing about her was,” Spencer went on meditatively, “that I had an odd feeling that in some way her face was familiar. Yet I couldn't remember having seen her before.”
“Did you notice where she went?”
“No, I couldn't. It was just where the stairs turn that I stood aside to let her pass, and you can't see much from there. But I thought I heard——”
“Well?”
“I did think at the time that I heard her stop on our landing and go along the passage——”
“To Mr. Bechcombe's room?” said the inspector quickly.
“Well, it would be to his room, of course,” Spencer said, his face paling again. “But I dare say I was wrong about her going down the passage. I didn't listen particularly.”