He shook his head.
“No!” he said. “I found nothing out!”
“You don’t think, then,” Lady Mary gasped, “that there is any chance—of getting her to confess—that she did it herself?”
“Why should she have done it herself?” Peter Ruff asked. “She admits that the man tried to make love to her. She simply left him. She was in her own home, with her mother and servant within call. There was no struggle in the room—we know that. There was no necessity for any.”
“Have you made any other enquiries?” Lady Mary asked.
“The few which I have made,” Peter Ruff answered gravely, “point all in the same direction. I ascertained at the Milan that your brother called there late last night, and that he heard Miss Shaw had been supping alone with Austen Abbott. He followed them home. I have ascertained, too, that he had a key to Miss Shaw’s flat. He apparently met Austen Abbott upon the threshold.”
Lady Mary covered her face with her hands. She seemed to read in Ruff’s words the verdict of the two men—the verdict of common sense. Nevertheless, he made one more request before leaving.
“I should like to see Captain Sotherst, if you can get me an order,” he said to Sir William.
“You can go with me to-morrow morning,” the lawyer answered. “The proceedings this morning, of course, were simply formal. Until after the inquest it will be easy to arrange an interview.”
Lady Mary looked up quickly.