“I see,” and Bobsy smiled. “Now, as to the other ladies, Mrs. Stannard and Miss Vernon?”
“Of those I know nothing, for they didn’t come around where I was.”
“Nor any of the men?”
“No, sir. Well, then, next, Mr. Wadsworth, he came down, and I let him out. He says, ‘Good night, Blake,’ sort of gay like, and I thought perhaps Mrs. Faulkner had smiled on his suit, sir.”
“Very likely. And then, Mrs. Faulkner came down?”
“Yes, but you see, just the moment before, I had heard this queer noise in the studio, and I was listening at the crack of the door. I meant no harm, and no curiosity,—but Mrs. Faulkner came in sight of me just then, and she spoke to me. Then, the lights went out——”
“Why, you said they were out before the lady spoke to you.”
“Oh, yes, that’s right, they were. Well, it’s small wonder I get mixed up. They were, sir, because I told Mrs. Faulkner they were, and she said it wasn’t my place to comment on that. And she was right, it wasn’t my place, to be sure; but I was worried, that’s what I was, worried, and then we both heard the cry of ‘Help!’ and she told me to turn on the studio lights and I did.”
“Do they all obey one switch?”
“Yes, sir, that is, there’s one main key right at the door jamb that controls all. So when I turned it on, the whole room was ablaze.”