Carlotta said, “Then he ran through the passageway into the house. I was afraid Mother was badly hurt. I thought he’d stabbed her. You see, I thought it was a knife. I kept asking Mother if she was badly hurt, and then we heard the slam of the back door.”
“Did you run to the back of the house?”
“I’m afraid,” Mrs. Goldring said, “we were more angry than prudent. We dashed to the back of the house. He’d gone through the kitchen, all right. Whiskers, the cat, was up on the table, his eyes big and round, and his tail fluffed out so it looked as big as a toy balloon.”
“The cat usually act that way with strangers?” Sergeant Sellers asked.
“No. The cat is usually very affectionate,” Mrs. Goldring said, “I know that I told Carlotta afterwards that it was just as if this cat knew this man — or had had some disagreeable experience. Perhaps this man had tried to catch it or something, and the cat was afraid of him. You could see the cat was definitely afraid, terrified. It was big-eyed with fright.”
“Just as though the man had been a big dog chasing him,” Carlotta said.
“Now, let’s get this straight,” Sellers said. “You called out ‘Mother,’ and immediately Mrs. Cool dropped the screw-driver and the picture slid back into place. Is that right?”
“That’s right. And almost at once I heard a sound from the garage as though something had fallen. I didn’t pay any particular attention to that at the moment because I was so thoroughly terrified thinking that it was a revolver that was being poked through the garage at me. It was terrible of her to frighten me that way.”
“I see. And then after you had chased this man through the back door, you came and found that Mrs. Cool wasn’t dead, only unconscious, and then is when you telephoned for the police. Is that right?”
“That’s right.”