McLane led the unstrung, half frantic girl out of the library, the startled servants making way for them. As they reached the door Gerald Armstrong tried to stop Lucille, but on meeting her look of loathing he cowered back and covered his face with his shaking hands.
Sam Hollister, recovering somewhat from his stupor, brought up a chair for Mrs. Hull.
“Sit down,” he said. “You look utterly spent”
With murmured thanks she sank down just as Anne approached and, dropping on her knees, put her arms around Mrs. Hull.
“Excuse me, Coroner Penfield.” Mrs. Hull had some difficulty in controlling her voice, as she blinked away the tears which persisted in filling her eyes and half blinding her. “And you also, Inspector Mitchell. Have a little patience and I will tell you my unhappy story of Sunday night, and then go with you.” She sighed deeply.
“My husband has met with financial reverses during the past two months,” she went on. “I knew something of his affairs, but he did not take me entirely into his confidence. It was about midnight on Sunday, Julian had retired early and I was about to go upstairs, when Gerald came to see me and told me that their firm was virtually ruined. He suggested that I see John Meredith and ask his aid.
“I am a home body, and starting again at the bottom, with a small house, little money and no servants held no particular terrors for me, but as I thought of my husband and his pride in his business integrity; Lucille, accustomed to every luxury, and her social ambitions; and of the people who had trusted my husband and who might be ruined through his bankruptcy, I pocketed my pride and told Gerald that I would see John.” Mrs. Hull paused, then continued more slowly:
“Gerald said that I must go to Ten Acres immediately, in spite of the hour; that unless he had a check for fifty thousand dollars, or its equivalent in cash, the firm could not open its doors on Monday morning.” Again Mrs. Hull sighed. “I believed him and he brought me out in his car. It was after midnight and Gerald admitted me into the house through the north door, to which he had a latch key. He would not come upstairs, but told me that he had tied a piece of twine to John’s door knob so that I could make no mistake in the room.”
“But why all this secrecy?” demanded Mitchell. “Why didn’t you telephone and make an appointment for the next morning?”
“Because I knew that my husband and John were not on good terms,” she responded. “They had had a dispute a week before. I was not sure that my husband would approve of my asking a favor of John, nor was I at all sure that John would see me if I asked for an appointment. I knew John’s habit of reading in bed half the night.” She hesitated and looked at Penfield. “May I have a glass of water?”