“It makes a difference, now that they’ve arrested Stannard,” he said, slowly.
“Oh, of course it does! Arrested him wrongfully, too. You see, he had to say he did it, or I would have been arrested.”
“Tell me the main facts,” said Ford to Bobsy. And in straightforward terms, Bobsy told the great detective all that the force had been able to accomplish.
“It would seem,” said Alan Ford, speaking with deliberation, “that the criminal must be one of the four people most nearly connected with the dead man. His wife, Miss Vernon here, Barry, the son, or Mr. Courtenay, the lover.”
“I don’t like for you to use that term,” said Natalie, gently. “For Mr. Courtenay and Mrs. Stannard could not be called lovers during Mr. Stannard’s life.”
“Good for you, for standing up for her. Well, I will postpone my Western trip for a few days at least.”
“He’s coming,” said Natalie, briefly, as in the late afternoon she arrived at The Folly.
“Who is?” asked Joyce, “and where have you been?”
Joyce and Beatrice were having tea in the Reception Room, for by common consent all the household avoided the Studio.
The servants shuddered as they were obliged to pass it or go through it, and Natalie declared it was haunted.