Prelice looked doubtful. "Magic is all bosh," he remarked.
"I'm not so certain of that, Dorry. There are queer things done, even in this twentieth century."
"H'm! Then you believe Miss Chent's improbable story?"
"I do—because I saw her insensible in the chair."
His listener reflected. "Was Sir Oliver dead then?"
"Yes! Sitting in his chair and lying half on the desk. He had been stabbed in the back."
"Was the window, or one of the windows, open?"
"I never noticed. And remember, Jadby did not say that the middle window was ajar, but only that the latch had been unfastened."
"I remember that. What happened next?"
Shepworth explained. "I found Sir Oliver dead, and Mona unconscious."