"No, sir. A little later, at half-past eleven, when I had settled down in my pantry with the door ajar, and a book to pass the time, I heard Mr. Manderson go upstairs to bed. I immediately went to close the library window, and slipped the lock of the front door. I did not hear anything more."
Trent considered. "I suppose you didn't doze at all," he said tentatively, "while you were sitting up waiting for the telephone message."
"Oh, no, sir! I am always very wakeful about that time. I'm a bad sleeper, especially in the neighborhood of the sea, and I generally read in bed until somewhere about midnight."
"And did any message come?"
"No, sir."
"No. And I suppose you sleep with your window open, these warm nights."
"It is never closed at night, sir."
Trent added a last note; then he looked thoughtfully through those he had taken. He rose and paced up and down the room for some moments with a downcast eye. At length he paused opposite Martin. "It all seems perfectly ordinary and simple," he said. "I just want to get a few details clear. You went to shut the windows in the library before going to bed. Which windows?"
"The French window, sir. It had been open all day. The windows opposite the door were seldom opened."
"And what about the curtains? I am wondering whether anyone outside the house could have seen into the room."