"Well—and then?"
"And then Claudine shrieked aloud and pointed to his hands. They were dripping with blood!"
"Did he attempt any explanation?"
"Not then. His first words were, as if he spoke in spite of himself:
'Blood! blood! Good God, it is hers! She is murdered!'"
"You say he offered no explanation then. Did he afterward?"
"I believe so. Not to me, but to others. He said his foot slipped on the stone terrace, and his hand splashed in a pool of something—his wife's blood."
"Can you relate what followed?"
"There was the wildest confusion. Claudine fainted. Sir Everard shouted for lights and men. 'There has been a horrible murder done,' he said. 'Fetch lights and follow me!' and then we all rushed to the stone terrace."
"And there you saw—what?"
"Nothing but blood. It was stained and clotted with blood everywhere; and so was the railing, as though a bleeding body had been cast over into the sea. On a projecting spike, as though torn off in the fall, we found my lady's India scarf."