During the meal a note was brought to him by a messenger from the village. He read it and slipped it in his pocket without a word.
After breakfast he requested the entire household, including the servants, to gather in the hall.
He addressed them in grave, earnest tones, without anger or undue excitement, saying, in part:
“I have made considerable progress in the investigations of the tragedies that have occurred in this house. I have learned much regarding the crimes and I think I have discovered who the guilty party is. I may say, in passing, that there is not, and has not been any supernatural influence at work. Any one who says that there has, is either blindly ignorant of or criminally implicated in the whole matter. The two deaths were vile and wicked murders and they are going to be avenged. The kidnapping of Zizi is the work of the same diabolical ingenuity that compassed the deaths of two innocent victims. A third death, that of my clever child assistant, was necessary to prevent discovery, hence Zizi’s fate.”
“Is she dead?” wailed Hester, “oh, Mr. Wise, is she dead?”
“I will tell you what happened to her,” said Wise, quietly. “She was taken from her bed in the so-called haunted room, she was carried out of the house, and a bundle of bricks was tied to her, and she was thrown into the lake. That’s what happened to Zizi.”
Milly screamed hysterically, Norma Cameron cried softly and Eve Carnforth exclaimed, with blazing eyes, “I don’t believe it! You are making that up! How can you know it? Why didn’t you rescue her?”
The men uttered various exclamations of incredulity and horror, and the servants sat, aghast.
Pennington Wise surveyed rapidly one face after another, noting the expression of each, and sighing, as if disappointed.
“She is not dead,” he said, suddenly, and watched again the telltale countenances.