Miss Wynne nodded her head vigorously.
"Yes, yes, I suppose so; still, it has all been a mistake and now I think I had better be going home. You will be suspecting me of the actual murder next.
"Nonsense, Miss Jennifer, we might as well suspect Lady Brenton, or Sir Edgar, for that matter."
"Why, yes, indeed," said the girl, quickly. "But as Lady Brenton was confined to her room, also with a headache, and Sir Edgar is not expected back till the morning, I think we are all quite safe."
The curious one-sided smile moved up Cleek's left cheek, then vanished as quickly as it had come.
"Quite so, Miss Jennifer," he said, blandly. "Besides, it is not with women we are concerned but the owner of this revolver that we found on the spot——"
She saw the revolver and whirled upon him like a mad woman.
"My God! He did lea—Edgar—he said it had been stolen!"
Realizing the effect of her words, she then turned fiercely on them. "If you dare to suspect Edgar, you are wrong. He was never within miles of the place! You shan't drag him into this wretched mess, you shan't, I say, you shan't——"
"Calm yourself, my dear young lady; there is every proof of its being a woman as much as a man," put in Cleek gently.