“And you found—?” said the colonel.
“Only this. I went to my rooms, turned on the light and was taking off my gloves before I untied my bonnet. One of my rings fell on the floor. It went under a rug, and I at once remarked that it was a different place for the rug to the one where it had been before. Before, it was in front of the dresser, a very natural place, but now it is on the carpet to one side, a place where there seemed no reason for its presence. These details seem trivial, but—”
“I can see they are not,” said the colonel. “Pray proceed, Madam. The ring had rolled under the rug!”
Mrs. Wigglesworth gave him a grateful nod.
“Yes, it had. And when I removed the rug I saw it; but as I bent to pick it up I saw something else. In one place there was a stain, as large as the palm of my hand, a little pool of—it looks like blood.”
Mrs. Melville uttered an exclamation of horror.
The colonel’s face stiffened; but there was no change in his polite attention.
“May we be permitted to see this—ah, stain?” said he.
The three stepped through the corridor to the outside door, and went into the chamber. The rug was flung to one side, and there on the gray velvet nap of the carpet was an irregular, sprawling stain about which were spattered other stains, some crimson, some almost black.
Millicent recoiled, shuddering. The colonel knelt down and examined the stains. “Yes,” he said very quietly, “you are right, it is blood.”