“I have told you what I do know, sir; that when I closed my eyes my mistress was still in the room, and when I woke up she was gone.”
“But have you no knowledge or suspicion of how she went?”
“I have no certain knowledge, sir, as I did not see her when she left. But as there seems no other way of her getting out of the room, it stands to reason that that policeman as kept the passage door must have let her out.”
The magistrate and the doctor looked at each other in perplexity. They had full faith in the policeman; they had no faith whatever in Tabitha, and yet the evidence was certainly against the policeman, and in favor of Tabitha. She saw this, and followed up her advantage by saying, valiantly:
“There, gentlemen, I have told you the truth. I can’t tell you any more than that. Now you may do your worst to me, for here I stand ready to be a martyr to the truth.”
The doctor and the magistrate still continued to look into each other’s faces for counsel.
“Why don’t you make the policeman confess? Don’t you see that there was no other way for Miss Leaton to escape but through the door that he guarded, for the dressing-room guarded by the other policeman has no outlet, and the window-shutters were all barred and padlocked by the doctor, who took away the keys with him. And even if he had not done so, the windows are full sixty feet from the ground, and even if she had attempted to jump from either of them, she must have broken her neck. But she could not even have attempted it, since the windows were found as they were left, securely fastened. And therefore, your worship, is it not perfectly clear as my mistress must have left the room through the door guarded by that perlice?” concluded Tabitha, pointing vindictively at the innocent but discomfitted officer.
“Sims, this looks very badly for you,” said the magistrate.
“I know it do, your worship, but I hope my character is above suspicion.”
“I believe it to be, Sims, and I do not myself suspect you.”