“It was very hot,” replied the maid, “and often on hot nights I would come in and fan Madame since she was so wakeful. Last night I went to the door and knocked. There was no reply. I called to her, ‘Madame, madame.’ Still there was no answer. The worst I supposed was that she had fainted. I continued to call.”
“The door was locked?” inquired Kennedy.
“Yes, sir. My call aroused the others on the boat. Dr. Jermyn came and he broke open the door with his shoulder. But the room was empty. Madame was gone.”
“How about the windows?” asked Kennedy.
“Open. They were always open these nights. Sometimes Madame would sit by the window when there was not much breeze.”
“I should like to see the room,” remarked Craig, with an inquiring glance at Edwards.
“Certainly,” he answered, leading the way down a corridor.
Mrs. Edwards’ room was on the starboard side, with wide windows instead of portholes. It was furnished magnificently and there was little about it that suggested the nautical, except the view from the window.
“The bed had not been slept in,” Edwards remarked as we looked about curiously.
Kennedy walked over quickly to the wide series of windows before which was a leather-cushioned window seat almost level with the window, several feet above the level of the water. It was by this window, evidently, that Juanita meant that Mrs. Edwards often sat. It was a delightful position, but I could readily see that it would be comparatively easy for anyone accidentally or purposely to fall.