"How often does she have paroxysms of violent madness?" asked the chief constable.
"Not often, sir; usually about the turn of the moon, or when there is a gale at sea."
"There was a gale at sea last night," said Colwyn. "Did your mother have an attack then?"
"Peggy said when she came downstairs last night she thought there were signs of an attack coming on, but when I looked in on Mother as I was going to bed, shortly before eleven, she seemed quiet enough, so I locked her door and went to bed."
"Do you mean to say that you leave this poor mad woman in her bedroom all night alone?" asked the chief constable.
"It's the best thing to be done, sir," replied the innkeeper, with an apologetic air. "We tried having somebody to sleep with her, but it only made her worse, and the doctor who saw her last year said it wasn't necessary. Peggy is with her a lot in the daytime, and often until she goes to bed. So she's really not left alone very much, because Ann goes into her room as soon as she gets up in the morning—about six o'clock."
"And is your mother always secured in her room—is the door always locked?" asked Superintendent Galloway.
"Yes, sir: the door is always locked inside or outside, and when I go to bed at night I take the key into my room and hang it on a nail. Ann comes in and gets it in the morning."
"You did that last night, as usual?"
"Yes, sir. Mother was quiet—just as you saw her now. She is quiet most of the time."