“She is of the family,” said Mrs. Kretz, “and so I never knew how she lied herself out of it.”
“You feel sure she opened the door, eh?” The woman nodded. “What for, do you suppose?”
“To allow some one below to come up. But that thing is not all. Why does she walk about in the corridors at night? What does she do outside when all should be asleep but the dogs?”
“You saw her one night,” said Lena, speaking suddenly. “The night Mr. Campe was hurt.”
“Yes,” said Bat.
“On that same night,” spoke Mrs. Kretz, “I was arranging something in the large room where the pictures are. There was only one small light burning. I finished my work, and stood by a window, looking out. There are long curtains at the window, and these hid me. I felt them stir, as if in a draught; and I knew the door of the room had opened. I turned and looked. Miss Knowles had come in. She crossed the floor very softly and carefully, and stooped quite near to me where the great sword hangs between the windows. She stood looking at this strangely; then she reached up and took it down. And with it hidden as much as her wraps would hide it, she went away.”
“Well?” asked Bat, quietly. But there was eagerness in his eyes.
“It was some hours after that when the great light flashed and we saw you come staggering along with Mr. Campe on your back.” There was a pause and the woman’s head rocked from side to side. “When he lay wounded out there in the darkness, she stood beside him. Didn’t you find them so?”
“Yes.”
“I saw the wound. It was I that washed and dressed it. A great long one, not deep, but fearful when you thought what it might have been.” Again she paused, and looked steadily at Scanlon. “It was just such a cut as one could make with a very long and very heavy weapon,” she said. “A weapon like the sword which hangs between the windows.”