"And George's voice is always like the one I heard. It's like that when he gets—used to get—into a temper with Enid."
Bristow felt immensely relieved. He was so sure of his case against Perry Carpenter that he refused to consider anything tending to obscure his own theory.
"Are you still sure it was Mr. Morley or Mr. Withers?"
"I think now," she answered, her voice hardly above a whisper, "it was George Withers."
"Why?"
"Let me explain again. I lay there, where I had fainted, for hours, until just a few minutes before you answered my call for help. I must have had a terrific shock. When I recovered consciousness, I stumbled into the living room and saw—saw Enid. Her—oh, Mr. Bristow!—the sight of her face, of her mouth, paralyzed my voice.
"I stood on the porch and tried to scream, but at first I couldn't. I only gasped and choked. I started down the steps, reached the bottom, and then found I could make myself heard. I ran back up the steps and stood there shrieking until I saw you coming. I suppose nobody had seen me go down the steps."
"But that hasn't anything to do with Mr. Withers?"
"Yes—yes, it has. When I went down the porch steps, I saw something lying in the grass, on the upper side of the steps, the side toward your house."
She slipped her hand under one of the pillows.