“Then you suspect some one?” asked Bobsy, quickly.
“Not at all,” was the haughty answer, and Joyce looked like a queen issuing commands. “I have no idea who the intruder was, nor do I want to know. But if this story is made public, a dozen men will be found to fit the description, and it will mean no end of trouble and injustice. Therefore, I request, Mr. Roberts, that you let it go no further.”
“I can’t promise that,” said Bobsy, gravely. “I am bound to report to my chief. But if he agrees, I will stop all investigation.”
“That won’t do,” said Joyce, her dark eyes troubled. “You must promise what I ask.”
“I think you need have no fear, Mrs. Stannard, of any injustice being done. One moment, Madame Orienta. You saw the footman, Blake, followed by Mrs. Faulkner, enter the room and turn on the light, just as they testified?”
“The light was flashed on, and then I saw the servant, his hand still on the switch. Behind him, at his very shoulder, was Mrs. Faulkner, her face drawn with fear and horror. Naturally I turned my attention at once to the other end of the room, and there saw, for the first time, the two women whom I had heard enter a moment before.”
“Thank you, that is all,” and rising, Bobsy Roberts made brief adieus and hurried away.
He went straight to headquarters and sought Captain Steele.
“Got Stannard’s murderer,” he announced excitedly.
“Again or yet?” asked his unmoved listener.