"Then you would fall back upon Lady Level?"
"No. No," flashed Mr. Ravensworth. "The bare suggestion of the idea is an insult to her."
Dr. Macferraty drew himself back in his chair. "There's a mystery in the affair, look at it which way you will, sir," he cried raspingly. "My lord says he did not recognise the assassin; but, if he did not, why should he forbid investigation? Put it as you do, that the two servants are innocent—why, then, I fairly own I am puzzled. Another thing puzzles me: the knife was found in Lady Level's chamber, yet she protests that she slept through it all—was only awakened by his lordship calling to her when it was over."
"It may have been flung in."
"No; it was carried in; for blood had dripped from it all along the floor."
"Has the weapon been recognised?"
"Not that I am aware of. No one owns to knowing it. Anyway, it is an affair that ought to be, and that must be, inquired into officially," concluded the doctor from the corridor, as he said good-night and went bustling out.
Mr. Ravensworth, standing at the sitting-room door, saw him meet the steward, who must have overheard the words, and now advanced with cautious steps. Touching Mr. Ravensworth's arm, he drew him within the shadow cast by a remote corner.
"Sir," he whispered, "my lady told Mrs. Edwards that you were a firm friend of hers; a sure friend?"
"I trust I am, Mr. Drewitt."