"Mother, mother!" she was moaning, "what has happened to my mother?"
"Where does that door lead?" he asked again, and for answer she slipped her trembling hand into her pocket and produced a key.
He opened the door and found himself in a rectangular gallery overlooking the hall.
She slipped past him, but he caught her and pushed her back.
"I tell you, you must be calm, Odette," he said firmly, "you must not give way. Everything depends upon your courage. Where are the servants?"
Then, unexpectedly, she broke away from him and raced back through the door into the wing they had left. He followed in swift pursuit.
"For God's sake, Odette, don't, don't," he cried, as she flung herself against the door and burst into her mother's room.
One glance she gave, then she fell on the floor by the side of her dead mother, and flinging her arms about the form kissed the cold lips.
Tarling pulled her gently away, and half-carried, half-supported her back to the gallery. A dishevelled man in shirt and trousers whom Tarling thought might be the butler was hurrying along the corridor.
"Arouse any women who are in the house," said Tarling in a low voice. "Mrs. Rider has been murdered."