“I need not remind you, I hope, of the seal of secrecy—absolute secrecy—in your profession,” she began. “Thanks to my cousin's and my sister's stupidity, you have found out——” she blew her nose.
“Please don't excite her, sir,” said Arthurs at the back.
“But, my dear Miss Moultrie, I only know what I've seen, of course, but it seems to me that what you thought was a tragedy in your sister's case, turns out, on your own evidence, so to speak, to have been an accident—a dreadfully sad one—but absolutely an accident.”
“Do you believe that too?” she cried. “Or are you only saying it to comfort me?”
“I believe it from the bottom of my heart. Come down to Holmescroft for an hour—for half an hour and satisfy yourself.”
“Of what? You don't understand. I see the house every day—every night. I am always there in spirit—waking or sleeping. I couldn't face it in reality.”
“But you must,” I said. “If you go there in the spirit the greater need for you to go there in the flesh. Go to your sister's room once more, and see the window—I nearly fell out of it myself. It's—it's awfully low and dangerous. That would convince you,” I pleaded.
“Yet Aggie had slept in that room for years,” she interrupted.
“You've slept in your room here for a long time, haven't you? But you nearly fell out of the window when you were choking.”