Rawson looked at the table with the shattered fragments of the lamp beside it. It was not far from the entrance door.
“Did you see anything—anything outside?”
“No, not a thing and I didn’t hear a sound.”
“What do you suppose made you feel faint?”
“Oh!” She dared to make a gesture, upraised hands that dropped limply. “Hasn’t there been enough here to make anybody faint?”
“You’ve got to remember, Rawson,” said Bassett who thought the man’s insistence unnecessary, “what a shock this has been—especially to Miss Tracy who was Miss Saunders’ friend.”
“I remember.” Then to Anne: “Miss Tracy, if you should withhold any information from us you’d get yourself into a very uncomfortable position.”
“I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t,” she breathed.
Rawson’s glance remained on her, dubiously intent. Bassett noted it with a resentment he found it difficult to hide.
“You can absolutely rely on Miss Tracy,” he said. “She would be perfectly frank with you if she had anything to tell.”