“Yes,” replied Miriam, quietly. “It was a great shock and I fainted, and in that condition was chloroformed. When I revived I found Mr. Abbott lying dead in that bed.”
As in a daze, Betty raised her hands and pressed them to her throbbing temples.
“You mean that some man got in this room while Miss Ward was in the hall with the lighted lamp, showing Uncle Alexander and me the way downstairs, threw Paul out of bed, and took his place?” she asked. “And being detected by Miss Ward, chloroformed her, and then murdered Paul?”
“You have described the scene very admirably,” stated Trenholm, slowly, “except in one particular. The man assumed Paul’s place in the bed when Miss Ward went downstairs to the door to admit you and Doctor Nash.”
“Impossible!” Betty’s eyes were half starting from her head. “Why, I stood near the bed—”
“Exactly where?” broke in Trenholm. “Show me.”
Betty rose and walked over to the bed and paused by it. “When I came, I stopped here,” she explained. “I did not move, did I, Miss Ward?” glancing appealingly at Miriam.
“No,” quickly.
“And how were the curtains of the four-poster draped?” asked Trenholm.
Miriam quickly arranged them to the best of her recollection.