“Go on; say all you have to say,” Cummings-Browne responded.
“Thank you, sir. I knew this key wasn’t one of ours—of this house—and I thought it just possible it might be the key to Mr. Melikoff’s flat. I knew, too, that my lady had written him a lot of letters first and last, and that if they should ever be found they might raise a scandal that would add to Sir Robert’s trouble, and I made up my mind to try and get hold of these. It was some time before I got the opportunity—it was a risky thing to do, of course. But the day that Mr. Carling was committed for trial I managed it. I knew the whole household was in the police court—I saw them there when I was in the witness-box in the morning—and in the late afternoon I went to the flat, and sure enough the key fitted. I had a look round just to take my bearings, found Mr. Melikoff’s room—there was a photo of my lady on his writing-table—and found the letters in a drawer of it. I was just about to go when they all came back; I’d run it a bit too close! I slipped into a room opposite Mr. Melikoff’s—a bare room, that looked like a schoolroom with very little in it except a piano and music-stands—and bolted the door. I thought, and so it turned out, that it wouldn’t be used at night. Hours and hours I waited there in the dark and cold before it seemed safe to try and get out.
“At last I ventured, and when I got into the hall, where the light was on, I saw the drawing-room door was ajar; there was a curtain inside, so I couldn’t see in.”
“But the door had been closed!” ejaculated Austin Starr.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Starr, I assure you it was open then, just an inch or two, and I heard voices inside—your voice, sir, and a lady’s, and you were talking about Lady Rawson. Dangerous as it was I couldn’t help listening for a minute; then I turned off the hall light and slipped off, closing the front door quietly with the key, and got away all right. Here are the letters.
“One word more, my lord and gentlemen. It was a terrible shock to me when Mr. Carling was accused, and I never believed they’d find him guilty, and right up to to-day I hoped he would be reprieved, so that it mightn’t be necessary for me to own up just yet. If my master had died I would have owned up at once; but I did hope I should be able to tend him as long as he needed me—and he needs me more now than he ever did before.”
For the first time his voice faltered, and he leaned with both hands on the table, as if for support. Snell half rose, but sat down again as Thomson recovered himself and resumed:
“It would be very kind if you could keep the truth from Sir Robert, for a bit anyhow—if you could tell him I’d been taken ill. And Mr. Carling will be safe—he’ll soon be released now, won’t he, sir?” He looked at the Home Secretary, and from him to Lord Warrington. “And you’ll excuse the liberty I took in sending for you all. I wouldn’t leave nothing to chance, so to speak. And now, Mr. Snell, I’m quite ready for you, and I’ll go quiet, of course, though I suppose you’ll want to put on the handcuffs, if you’ve got them with you?”
They all rose, and Thomson, respectful to the last, stepped back and stood, with Snell close beside him, as if the buzz of low-toned, agitated conversation among the others did not concern him in the least.