This time Hazel did not reply audibly, but a faint movement of her head indicated an affirmative.
"What would you say if your mother admits that you left her room before the murder was committed, and that she did not see you until afterwards?"
It was a clever trap, Caldew reluctantly conceded, this idea of playing off the mother and daughter against each other, but one that he would have hesitated to use. The effect was instantaneous. Before the girl could frame her frightened lips in reply, her mother lifted her head sharply.
"I didn't say so! Don't answer him, Hazel, don't tell him. Oh!" Too late the wretched woman realized that she had betrayed her daughter, and she sank into a stupefied silence.
"Your mother has let the cat out of the bag," said Merrington to the girl, in a bantering tone. "Come, now," he added, changing swiftly into his most truculent mood. "We may as well have the truth, first as last. You were seen last night going up the hall in the direction of the left wing just before the murder was committed. Do you admit it?"
"I do." The admission was made in a low but calm tone.
"Then your last answer was untrue. What were you doing in the hall at that time?"
Hazel, staring straight in front of her, did not reply, but her quickly moving breast betrayed her agitation.
"Did you hear me? I asked what were you doing in the hall last night."
"I shall not tell you."