“And the housemaid had dusted the drawing-room this morning,” Dr. Ringwood said thoughtfully. “Mr. Hassendean wasn't long in the drawing-room after dinner, was he?”
“No, sir. They didn't take very long over their coffee.”
Dr. Ringwood looked judicial and seemed to consider some abstruse point before speaking again.
“Mrs. Silverdale didn't look ill during the day, did she?”
“No, sir. But now you mention it, I did think she seemed rather strange just before she went out.”
“Indeed? I was afraid of something of the sort. What do you mean, exactly?” Dr. Ringwood demanded, concealing his interest as well as he could.
“Well, sir, it's hard to say exactly. She came out of the drawing-room and went upstairs to get her cloak; and as she came down again, I passed her in the hall, taking some dishes to the kitchen. She seemed dazed-like, now you mention it.”
“Dazed?”
“Funny sort of look in her eyes, sir. I can't describe it well. Seemed as if she wasn't taking notice of me as I passed.”
Dr. Ringwood's face showed an increase in gravity.