John Treverton shrugged his shoulders.
‘What can I think about them? No one in the house could have had any motive for murdering my wife.’
‘It is pretty clear that the murder was not done by any one outside the house,’ said Mr. Leopold, ‘unless, indeed, the street door had been left open in the course of the evening, so as to enable the murderer to slip in quietly, and hide himself until every one had gone to bed. At what time did your wife generally return from the theatre?’
‘About twelve o’clock; oftener before twelve than after.’
‘The murderer may have followed her into the house. She had a latch-key, I suppose?’
‘Yes.’
‘She may have been careless in closing the door, and left it unfastened. It is quite possible that some one may have entered the house after her, and left it quietly when his work was done.’
‘Quite,’ answered Treverton, with a bitter smile. ‘But if we do not know who that some one was, the fact won’t help us.’
‘How about this man who occupied the second floor—this Desrolles? What is he?’
‘A broken-down gentleman,’ answered Treverton, with a troubled look.