Directly back of these, and with windows on a large court, were the three bedrooms, Eunice’s in the middle, Sanford’s back of the hall, and Aunt Abby’s back of the dining-room. Aunt Abby’s room was ordinarily Eunice’s boudoir and dressing-room, but was used as a guest chamber on occasion.
These three bedrooms, as was shown to Examiner Crowell, when locked from the inside were shut off by themselves, although allowing free communication from one to another of them.
“Lock with keys?” he asked.
“No,” Eunice replied. “There are big, strong, snap-locks on the inside of the doors. I mean locks that fasten themselves when you shut the door, unless you have previously put up the catch.”
“Yes, I see,” and Crowell looked into the matter for himself. “Spring catches, and mighty strong ones, too. And these were always fastened at night?”
“Always,” Eunice declared. “Mr. Embury was not afraid of burglars, but it was his life-long habit to sleep with a locked door, and he couldn’t get over it.”
“Then,” and the bird-like little eyes darted from one to another of his listeners and paused at Aunt Abby; “then, Miss Ames, you were also locked in, each night with your niece and her husband, safe from intruders.”
“Yes,” and Aunt Abby looked a little startled at being addressed. “I don’t sleep with my door locked at home, and it bothered me at first. But, you see, my room has no outlet except through Mrs. Embury’s bedroom, so as the door between her room and mine was never locked, it really made little difference to me.”
“Oh, is that the way of it?” and Dr. Crowell rose in his hasty manner and dashed in at Eunice’s door. This, the middle room, opened on the right to the boudoir, and on the left to Embury’s room.
The latter door was closed, and Crowell turned toward the boudoir—now Aunt Abby’s bedroom. A small bed had been put up for her there, and the room was quite large enough to be comfortable. It was luxuriously furnished and the appointments were quite in keeping with the dainty tastes of the mistress of the house.