“On the stairway!” exclaimed the Coroner, in amazement.
“Yes,” returned Illsley, his grave eyes resting on the face of the widow, who stared at him as if stricken dumb. “Yes, I saw her distinctly. She was evidently coming downstairs, one hand rested on the banister, and she was looking upward at the ceiling.”
“Did she see you?”
“I think not. If so, she made no sign. But she was not looking my way, and I went on into the reception room, where I was going in search of a scarf Miss Stuart had left there. When I recrossed the hall, the lady had disappeared.”
“Did not this seem to you a strange circumstance?”
“I had no right to any opinion on the subject. It was not my affair what guests were at the house I was visiting, or what they might be doing.”
“But Mrs. Frothingham asserts she was not an acquaintance of Miss Carrington.”
“I did not know that, then; and even so, it gave me no right to speculate concerning the lady’s presence there. Nor should I refer to it now, except that in view of the subsequent tragedy it is due to every principle of right and justice that all truths be known as to that evening. Mrs. Frothingham will, of course, recall the episode and can doubtless explain it.”
“I should like to hear the explanation!” said Pauline, with flashing eyes. “As mistress here now, I am interested to know why a stranger should wander about this house at will.”
Mrs. Frothingham sat silent. Her face showed not so much consternation or dismay as a cold, calculating expression, as if debating just what explanation she should offer.