"No, no," Eva shuddered, "it was only a dream."
"Part of one, you said."
Miss Strode nodded. "After I saw the body and the white glove on the wooden hand glimmering in the twilight--for twilight it was in my dream--I seemed to sink into darkness, and to be back in my bed--yes, in my bed in the room across the passage."
"Ah! you woke then?" said Mrs. Merry, disappointed.
"No, I swear I was not awake. I was in my bed asleep, dreaming, for I heard footsteps--many footsteps come to the door--to the front door, then five knocks----"
"Five," said the woman, surprised.
"Five knocks. One hard and four soft. Then a voice came telling me to take in the body. I woke with a cry, and found it was just after nine o'clock."
"Well, well," chuckled the old woman, "if Robert Strode is dead----"
"You can't be sure of that," said Eva fiercely, and regretted telling this dismal woman her dream.
"You saw the gloved hand--the wooden hand?"