"You were in the dead man's room last night," he said. "What were you doing there?"
"I do not know that it is any business of yours," she replied, in a low tone.
"I do not think you had better adopt that attitude," he said quietly. "You know you had no right to go into that room. I do not wish to threaten you, but you had better tell me the truth."
She stood silent for a moment, as though weighing his words. Then she said:
"I will tell you why I went there, not because I am afraid of anything you can do, but because I am not afraid of the truth. I went there because of a promise I made to Mr. Glenthorpe. He was very kind and good to me—when he was alive. Only two days before he met his death he asked me, if anything happened to him at any time, to go to his bedroom and remove a packet I would find in a little secret drawer in his writing table, and destroy it without opening it. He showed me where the packet was, and how to open the drawer. After he was dead I thought of my promise, and tried several times to slip into the room and get the packet, but there was always somebody about. So I went in last night, after everybody was in bed, because I thought the police might find the packet in searching his desk, and I should have been very unhappy if I had not been able to keep my promise."
"How did you get into the room? The door was locked, and Superintendent Galloway had the key."
"He left it on the mantelpiece downstairs. I saw it there earlier in the evening, and when he was out of the room I slipped in and took it, and put the key of my own room in its place. I replaced it next morning."
"What did you do with the packet you removed?"
"I took it across the marshes and threw it into the sea," she replied, looking steadily into his face.
"Why did you go to that trouble? Why did you not burn it?"