“But who could it have been?” Miss Messenger besought him.
“It could, so far as I can make out, only have been yourself—in a trance,” Harrison replied. He instinctively disliked the sound of that last word, but could find no other. People who have “swooned” or fainted do not walk about in that condition. “Er—you’ve never, I suppose—er—been in that state of unconsciousness before?” he went on quickly, as if to obliterate the effect of the too suggestive word.
“Not actually,” Miss Messenger said, hesitated, and then continued: “but I’ve—felt queer once or twice lately.”
“Queer?” Harrison prompted her.
“As if—as if I were going off like I did last night,” she explained. “Only lately, though. Only since my friend died.”
“Mrs. Burton?”
She nodded.
“Hm. Very sad, very,” said Harrison, getting up, and then he added: “It was very good of you to answer my questions, and I think, now, that I am satisfied as to the identity of the stranger. You must have walked in your trance last night, Miss Messenger, and made your way back again to the place where we found you, dropping your scarf on the way. You must forgive us for not recognising you in the half-light.”
Miss Messenger had no comment to make on that explanation. It was evident that she was not in a position to deny his statement, even if she had had the desire to do so....
And after that interview, Harrison began to see his way quite clearly. When he left the hotel he visited the scene of last night’s encounter in order to make a thorough examination of the place itself, and especially of that curious little enceinte among the yews where Miss Messenger had been found. He thought it possible that he might discover fresh evidence.