“I bought it off a sailor years ago in Constantinople, when I was there with my master, and he used to go about so reckless by himself in places that weren’t safe for an English gentleman that often I followed him, with this as a sort of protection, but I never had to use it—never did use it but the once!
“I don’t know what came over me all in a moment. When my lady had gone into the telephone-booth I found I’d got the dagger in my hand. I opened the door, struck at her, and snatched the bag that was resting on the little sloping shelf under the instrument. She only made a little gurgling sound and dropped forward. I shut the door on her and went through to the scullery and pushed to the door. The whole thing couldn’t have taken half a minute, and I was just in time, for I heard someone come along to the stairs and call ‘Jessie!’ There was a wet rag on the scullery table—the place didn’t seem to be used much for anything but rubbish: there was a heap of waste paper and boxes in the corner. While I waited I wiped my glove on the rag and took it off; here they both are. I’ve never cleaned them.”
He took a neatly folded pair of tan gloves out of the cigar-box and laid them on the table.
“I opened the bag, found the big envelope addressed to Sir Robert just as Mr. Carling had said, and knew the papers must be inside, but didn’t try to look at them. I also found this key and this little box, and put them in my pocket.”
He took out a Yale latchkey and a small ornate powder box of gold set with jewels, and placed these beside the other articles.
“I saw through the window a taxicab standing before the side door. There was no one at all in sight, so I listened for a minute—by the sound there were several people in the shop—then went out at the side door, put the bag through the cab window, walked away, slipping the envelope into the post box at the corner. Then I walked to the station, got a train at once—I had taken a return ticket—and was back here soon after two. I had only been away just over an hour, and so far as I know I had never been missed.
“I found my dinner on a tray in my room—I have always had my meals in my own room—and I sat down and ate it.”
“Ate his dinner! Good heavens!” muttered Lord Warrington. The others were silent, Austin Starr, an expert stenographer, was taking down the confession verbatim; the Home Secretary and Cummings-Browne making occasional notes; Snell maintained his ceaseless vigilance.
“I had just finished when Sir Robert’s bell rang for me. I went up to the library and found him and Mr. Snell there. Sir Robert again questioned me about the papers, and while he was speaking the news came by telephone that my lady had been murdered, and my master fell down in a fit.
“That’s about all it’s necessary to tell, I think, though if I might be permitted to say a few words more—about this key, and something else——”