Mrs. Cornell, invested with the grisly excitement of the hour, was eager to tell what she knew. She had been standing at the window of her room, and she saw Sybil on the path below passing the end of the balcony. Mrs. Cornell was surprised for it was not far from supper-time and Sybil was still in her Viola dress. She had not watched her, but had gone back to lock the trunk. Both she and Miss Pinkney agreed that the shot had followed soon after—about six or seven minutes they thought.
They diverged to the place of the murder, the Point. The last person who had been there was Shine, somewhere round six-thirty, though he couldn’t swear to the time. He’d stayed there perhaps ten minutes, walking round, and had then gone up to the garden. As far as he could see the place was deserted. In answer to the question had he seen any one on his way back, he said he had seen Mrs. Stokes walking along the ocean bluffs and Mr. Stokes reading a paper on the balcony.
This ended the interrogations for the time being. The company was told they might retire to their rooms. But they were to understand that they were held on Gull Island for the present, no going off on any pretext or holding communication with any one on the mainland. Also—and Mr. Rawson was emphatic—once in their rooms they were to stay in them unless sent for by him. He did not want any wandering about in the halls or talking together.
They rose weariedly and prepared to go. Stokes helped his wife to her feet and Bassett edged between the chairs toward Anne.
“How are you?” he murmured, for her appearance shocked him.
“All right. There’s nothing the matter with me.”
“Try to get some rest.”
“Will they want us any more to-night?”
“I don’t think so—not you anyway.”
Stokes and Flora moved toward the hall door, the woman limply hanging on her husband’s arm. Rawson’s voice arrested them: