"Well," said Leonard, "it seems to me that the yellow holly has something to do with the crime."
Mrs. Ward drew a long breath but said no word. He was speaking half to himself, and she did not wish to interrupt his train of thought. But she listened with all her ears. Leonard continued: "I found a berry in the room where she was killed. Yes. They took us in to see the body, and a horrid sight it was. I turned my eyes to the floor, and there I saw--just by the table--a kind of amber bead. I dropped my handkerchief so that Quex might not suspect, and I picked it up. When in my own room I examined it. It was one of the yellow holly berries."
Mrs. Ward threw herself back with a kind of unholy triumph. "Do you know what you are saying, Mr. Train?" she said in a half whisper. "You are accusing Mr. Brendon----"
"No! no!" Train started to his feet. Mrs. Ward pulled him down again and pointed with her fan toward the boudoir.
"Hush! He might come out," she whispered. "But can't you see? Brendon wore the sprig in his coat on that night. He must have been in the room and have dropped the berry. What was he doing there if it was not to----"
"No," said Train, hoarsely. "I half thought of that myself, but it is quite impossible, I tell you. He could not have got out of his room unless he had come to me."
"How do you mean?"
"I locked the door of the sitting-room, which was between his bedroom and mine. There was no exit from his bedroom, and to get out and down the stairs he would have had to open the sitting-room door. Now the key was under my pillow and the door was locked in the morning. No, Mrs. Ward, Brendon is innocent."
"He might have stolen the key while you slept." Train shook his head. "Impossible. I sleep very lightly, and on that night I hardly slept at all."
"Why. Was anything wrong?"