"Well, well, go on!" said Prelice impatiently.
"That knife," breathed Shepworth nervously.
"The jade-handled paper-cutter. Well?"
"She had it in her hand."
"When? Where?" Prelice could not grasp the true significance of this very serious statement.
"In the library, when she was unconscious in the chair."
"How on earth do you know, Ned?"
Shepworth looked round again, and wiped his face. "See here," he whispered. "I was in bed with that sprained ankle, as Belmain said. In our row I gave Jadby the worst of it, including a black eye, although he fought like a cat with nine lives. But I tripped, and hurt my foot, as Belmain said in his speech. It was swollen and painful, but not so much but what I could have got away to town."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because Mona asked me to stop and support her. She expected further trouble with her uncle. I lay awake, trying to bear the pain as best I could, for my ankle got worse when I lay down. About a quarter to ten I heard Mona pass my door and go down the stairs."