“I am a guest,” she returned, simply. “I have been staying here a few weeks for the purpose of having my portrait painted by Mr. Stannard.”
“You previously owned this house, did you not?”
“My late husband, an architect of note, built it. Later, it was sold to Mr. Stannard, who has lived in it nearly two years.”
“Where were you just before you came down the stairs and saw Blake?”
“In the Drawing Room, on the second floor, at the other end of the house. I had been entertaining a guest, and as he had just taken leave, I went down stairs to rejoin my hostess.”
“Where did you expect to find Mrs. Stannard?”
“Where I had left her, in the Billiard Room.”
“You left her there? How long before?”
“An hour or so. There were several guests at dinner, and they had drifted to the various rooms afterward.”
“Who were the guests at dinner?”