“The carpet is very thick and soft, and she did not hear me as I approached behind her, so that I had a good view of her face in the mirror, and, Mr. Carter, I actually believed it to be Miss Mercedes—until she spoke.
“I uttered an exclamation of surprise at finding her there, whereupon she wheeled like lightning and confronted me. Even then the resemblance was so startling that I was not sure that she was not my mistress; but she saw that she was fairly caught, and she burst into tears, which she probably knew would be the surest way of winning me over to promise that I would not betray her.”
“And she did win you over so that you never spoke of the circumstance, I suppose?” said the detective.
“I have never spoken of it till now, sir.”
“Tell me what she said at the time, in explanation of her conduct.”
“I don’t remember much that she said, sir. She talked a steady stream for half an hour, and it was chiefly about there having been a time when she had finery of her own, and was a welcome guest at receptions such as the one where our mistress had gone. The dress she had put on was one which I had brought out for Miss Mercedes to wear, but which she had laid aside for another that she preferred. It had not been laid away again—was, in fact, on the bed when Isabel found it, and determined to see how she would appear with it. I was sorry for her. She could wheedle anybody with her voice.”
“Ah! Her voice. Tell me about that.”
“Her voice is very soft and low. Not like any other voice I ever heard, and yet, strangely enough, always remindful of a voice you have heard somewhere. Don’t you know voices of that kind, sir?”
“Yes; I think I know what you mean. What was her manner, generally, in the house? Did she offend the other servants, or did they like her?”
“I think they all loved her, sir. I was the only one who distrusted her—and I could not tell you why I did so, either.”