"That is your theory. But why was there no evidence of a struggle? It hardly seems reasonable that she would have allowed herself to be stabbed without some effort to save herself."
"Well, that is beyond me. Jean Baptiste acted suspicious in my opinion, and it is certainly strange that he should have been in the position he was at such a crucial time."
"May I consult with your wife?"
Glavis looked around, uneasily. "She is very much torn up by the incident," he suggested.
"But this is a very grave matter."
"Well," and he turned and entered the room wherein Ethel had enclosed herself.
"Ethel, an officer has called and wishes to consult with you."
"No, no, no!" she yelled. "Send him away. Didn't I tell you I didn't want to see no police," and she fell to crying. The detective had entered the room in the meantime, and when she looked up, she saw him.
"What are you doing in here?" she fairly screamed. He did not flinch under the glare she turned upon him. Indeed, the day was at last come when she could frighten no one. The one she had been able to drive to any lengths with such a propaganda, lay stiff at the morgue. The detective regarded her searchingly, and upon realizing he was not going to jump and run, she ceased that unseemly noise making and began crying, woefully.
"You discovered this tragedy, madam?" he inquired calmly, but with a note of firmness in his tone.