"But Mr. Mahr was stabbed, Mrs. Welles," Gard interrupted. "You said you struck him with a pistol."
"Oh, I did that afterward." She took up the thread of her narrative. "I selected the place very carefully, and pushed the knife way in tight. I hate the sight of blood, and I sort of thought that'd stop it, and it did. Then, dear me, I had a scare. There's a picture in that room as live as life, and I looked up, and saw it looking at me. So I started to run out, but somebody was coming, so in the little room off the big one I got behind a curtain. Then this gentleman went through the room where I was, and into the room where he was. But he shut the door, and I couldn't see what he thought of it. After a while he came out and said 'good-night' to me, though how he knew I was there I can't guess. So I waited a very long time, till everything was quiet, and then I went back and sat with him. It did me good just to sit and look at him; and every little while I'd lift his coat to see if the little sword was still there. The room was awful messy, and I tidied it up a bit. Then when dawn about came, I got up and walked out. I had a sort of idea of getting back to the institution without saying anything, because I was afraid they'd punish me."
"Why did you rob Mr. Mahr?" asked Mr. Field.
"Rob nothing!" she retorted.
"But his jewels, his watch," the attorney continued, his eyes riveted on her face with compelling earnestness. The woman gave an inarticulate growl. "But," interposed Brencherly, "I found his wallet in your package." He took from his pocket a worn and battered leather pocketbook and held it toward her.
"Oh," she answered indifferently, "I just took it for a souvenir. In fact, I came back for it--last thing."
Brencherly shrugged his shoulders expressively. Gard sat far back in his chair, his face in shadow.
"How long has it been, Mrs. Welles, since you--accomplished your purpose?" he asked slowly.
"You know as well as I do," she cried angrily.
"You were there. It was yesterday--no, the day before."