"Nonsense," said the Inspector, and pushing her roughly aside he stepped into the room. On the bed lay Sylvia, apparently still unconscious, but as the man looked at her she opened her eyes with a long sigh. Deborah put her arms round the girl and began to talk to her in an endearing way. Shortly Sylvia sat up, bewildered. "What is it?" she asked. Then her eyes fell on the policeman. "Oh, where is my father?"
"He's dead, pretty," said Deborah, fondling her. "Don't take on so."
"Yes—I remember—the body on the floor—the serpent across the mouth—oh—oh!" and she fainted again.
"There!" cried Deborah, with bitter triumph, "see what you've done."
"Come—come," said Inspector Prince, though as gently as possible. "I am in charge of this case. Tell me what has happened."
"If you'd use your blessed eyes you'd see murder has happened," said Miss Junk, savagely. "Let me attend to my pretty."
Just at this moment a tall young man entered the room. It was the doctor. "The policemen said you were up here," he said in a pleasant voice. "I've examined the body, Inspector. The man is quite dead—he has been strangled—and in a cruel manner with that copper wire, which has cut into the throat, to say nothing of this," and the doctor held out the brooch.
"That, drat it!" cried Deborah, vigorously, "it's the cause of it all, I do believe, if I died in saying so," and she began to rub Sylvia's hands vigorously.
"Who is this young lady?" asked the doctor; "another patient?"
"And well she may be," said Miss Junk. "Call yourself a doctor, and don't help me to bring her to."