“You are sure that the clock was right?”
“Quite sure, sir; I had put it right that same evening.”
“Very well, then. Sir Terence called you at ten minutes past twelve. Pray continue.”
“He gave me a letter addressed to the Commissary-general. ‘Take that,’ says he, ‘to the sergeant of the guard at once, and tell him to be sure that it is forwarded to the Commissary-General first thing in the morning.’ I went out at once, and on the lawn in the quadrangle I saw a man lying on his back on the grass and another man kneeling beside him. I ran across to them. It was a bright, moonlight night—bright as day it was, and you could see quite clear. The gentleman that was kneeling looks up, at me, and I sees it was Captain Tremayne, sir. ‘What’s this, Captain dear?’ says I. ‘It’s Count Samoval, and he’s kilt,’ says he, ‘for God’s sake, go and fetch somebody.’ So I ran back to tell Sir Terence, and Sir Terence he came out with me, and mighty startled he was at what he found there. ‘What’s happened?’ says he, and the captain answers him just as he had answered me: ‘It’s Count Samoval, and he’s kilt. ‘But how did it happen?’ says Sir Terence. ‘Sure and that’s just what I want to know,’ says the captain; ‘I found him here.’ And then Sir Terence turns to me, and ‘Mullins,’ says he, ‘just fetch the guard,’ and of course, I went at once.”
“Was there any one else present?” asked the prosecutor.
“Not in the quadrangle, sir. But Lady O’Moy was on the balcony of her room all the time.”
“Well, then, you fetched the guard. What happened when you returned?”
“Colonel Grant arrived, sir, and I understood him to say that he had been following Count Samoval...”
“Which way did Colonel Grant come?” put in the president.
“By the gate from the terrace.”