"But that's very little to make one sleep so soundly, that one couldn't hear the cries of a woman being murdered and all the noises that must have accompanied the attack upon her. Don't you think so?"
"But, you must remember," she said tartly, "I'm not accustomed to taking morphine. Anyway, that's the way it affected me."
"You heard absolutely nothing and saw nothing until you discovered your sister's body at ten o'clock this morning?"
"That's true. Yes; that's true." She looked out of the window, paying him no more attention.
Bristow, in his turn, was silent. Greenleaf took up the inquiry:
"Several times today, while you were asleep or delirious, you said the words: 'When he—say—I—asleep,' Can you explain that for us, Miss Fulton?"
Her pallor deepened. This time terror flourished in her eyes as she turned sharply toward Greenleaf.
"Who says I said that?" she demanded, husky again.
"Things are heard pretty easily in these bungalows," he said. "One of my men heard it."
"Oh, I understand," she replied, a hint of craftiness creeping into her voice. "No; I can't explain it. One can't often explain one's ravings."