He began with the revolver, but she repeated the denial of all knowledge regarding its presence in Room 18 she had given at the inquest. Also, to further questions as to her visit to Room 18 on the night it had sheltered that irascible patient, Mr. Gastin, she repeated the lame explanation she had given at the time. She admitted coolly enough that she understood the use of a hypodermic outfit, and as coolly, though with an evil glance at me, that she had made a trip through the orchard immediately after hearing of Dr. Letheny’s death; she had wished to see Dr. Hajek, she said brazenly, to discuss with him the news of the tragedy.
It was then that O’Leary held before her eyes the small gold sequin.
“Enough of this, Miss Letheny,” he said coldly. “It would be better for you to give me your fullest confidence. Why were you at the window of Room 18 last Thursday night? This ornament was found on the window sill. How did it get there?”
Corole stared blankly from the gold sequin to O’Leary, but back of those queer topaz eyes I felt that she was thinking desperately.
“Well,” she said finally, “I was near Room 18. In fact, I went as far as the window sill. You see, I was walking in the orchard. I was near the porch of the south wing when I heard something—a sort of noise, there at the window of the corner room.” She stopped and ran a quick, catlike tongue over her lips. “Room 18, that is. I was rather curious so I crept up nearer the window. A man was opening the screen and crawling into Room 18. He left the screen up and I slipped quietly up to the window. I am rather tall, you know, and as I leaned for a moment on the sill I suppose the sequin got detached from my gown.”
“It was very dark that night. Did you see all this?”
She moistened her lips again; they were taking on a bluish tinge.
“I—I see in the dark better than most people.” (Which I, for one, did not doubt.) “And anyway I could hear, you know.”
“What could you hear? Why should you think that the noise you heard was made by a man crawling in the window of Room 18? That is just a little far-fetched, Miss Letheny.”
“It is true, anyhow,” she said sulkily. “I heard the screen catch as he pulled it up and the sort of—scrambling sound he made, and I could see the patch of light that was his shirt front.”