“What did you do?”
“I stood listening, then I heard Miss Arnot scream out. It was a horrible sound. I grabbed up my dress and holding it to me I ran to the door of the changing room.”
“And did you see anything?”
Frances nodded. Her face was now white and strained.
“What did you see?”
“Miss Arnot was lying on the ground, near the pool, and a short, thick-set man in a black suit was bending over her. He wrenched off her swim-suit. In his right hand he was holding a knife: it was a broad-bladed thing, and it glittered in the sunshine. Miss Arnot seemed partially stunned. She was feebly trying to push his hand away. Before I could do anything, he — he stabbed her.”
“Did you cry out? Did you let him know you were there?”
Frances shook her head.
“Oh, no. I knew he had killed her. No one could have lived after the awful wound he gave her. It was horrible!” She looked away, her lips trembling. “I was paralysed with fear. I couldn’t move or make a sound. He straightened up and kicked her as she lay dying on the ground. I saw his face. I’ll never forget it. He
looked like a wild beast.”