“There is none here?” interrupted Kenelm.
“No, sir, none; the poor lady was not robbed, therefore the motive of greed, gain or dishonesty is not present. No one living gains anything by her death, therefore no one could have any interest in bringing it about. She is the only daughter of a mother who will never get over her loss; the wife of a husband who is even now at death’s door for her sake. Who could possibly desire her death? She never appears to have made an enemy; her servants and dependents all say of her that she was proud, but generous and lavish as a queen.”
“It is true,” said Kenelm Eyrle.
“I have known strange cases in my life,” continued Sergeant Hewson, warming with his subject. “Strange and terrible. I have known murder committed by ladies whom the world considers good as they are fair——”
“Ladies!” interrupted Kenelm. “Ah! do not tell me that. Surely the gentle hand of woman was never red in a crime so deep as that.”
Sergeant Hewson smiled as one who knows the secret of many hearts.
“A woman, sir, when she is bad, is far worse than a man; when they are good they are something akin to the angels; but there is no woman in this case. I have looked far ahead. I am sure of it; there was no rival with hot hate in her heart, no woman deceived and abandoned for this lady’s sake, to have foul vengeance. I confess myself baffled, for I can find no motive.”
Kenelm Eyrle looked perplexed.
“Nor, to tell you the truth, can I.”
“Do you think it possible that any tramp or beggar going through the wood did it, and was disturbed before he had time to rob her?”