“No, sir, it was shut.”
“When you got in the room—what happened?”
“Well, sir, I opened the door with my left hand, I had my broom and things in my right, so that I didn’t catch sight of the corpse, sir, till I was well inside the room.”
“Then you saw Mr. Prescott? Eh?”
“And that awful knife——” she shuddered as the memory of the scene came home to her again.
“H’m. Was the window open?”
Her black eyes opened wide, intensifying the pallor of her face.
“The window—sir?” she queried. “Let me think.” She pondered for a brief moment. “Yes, sir,” she declared. “I think so.”
“Your pardon, Inspector,” intervened Sir Charles, “perhaps I can help you with regard to that point; the window was open, I distinctly remember noticing it.” He preened himself.
Baddeley regarded him with a mixture of approval and amusement.