Being a woman of some strength of mind, I had intended to take a firm line with this detective whom everyone seemed to think so remarkable, but I found myself walking as meekly as any lamb at his side, and once inside the general office with the door closed, I sat as resignedly in a chair opposite him as if there were not a thousand and one things that I should be doing.
“You are the superintendent of the south wing?” He spoke very quietly and with what I found later to be a wholly deceptive air of detachment.
“Yes.”
“You were on duty last night between twelve and six o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“Miss Maida Day was your assistant?”
“Yes.”
“Dr. Balman tells me that Miss Day telephoned to him about two o’clock—possibly ten minutes before the hour. I judge that was only a few moments after you found that your patient was dead?”
“Yes. It must have been about that time. It was something after one-thirty when the storm broke and I hurried along the corridor and closed the south door. Then I closed the window in Room 17 and went directly into Eighteen.” My voice was not quite steady at the recollection of those moments and he waited briefly, his clear eyes studying a pencil in his hands, before he went on.
“The windows in Room 18 were also open?”