“No; but after I had gone to bed I heard voices in Mr. Drukker’s room.”
“Was it unusual to hear voices in his room at ten o’clock at night?”
“But it wasn’t him! He had a high voice, and this one was low and gruff.” The woman looked up in bewildered fright. “And the other voice was Mrs. Drukker’s . . . and she never went in Mr. Drukker’s room at night!”
“How could you hear so plainly with your door shut?”
“My room is right over Mr. Drukker’s,” she explained. “And I was worried—what with all these awful things going on; so I got up and listened at the top of the steps.”
“I can’t blame you,” said Vance. “What did you hear?”
“At first it was like as though the mistress was moaning, but right away she began to laugh, and then the man spoke angry-like. But pretty soon I heard him laugh, too. After that it sounded like the poor lady was praying—I could hear her saying ‘Oh, God—oh, God!’ Then the man talked some more—very quiet and low. . . . And in a little while it seemed like the mistress was—reciting—a poem. . . .”
“Would you recognize the poem if you heard it again? . . . Was it
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. . . .?”
“Bei Gott, das ist’s! It sounded just like that!” A new horror came into the woman’s expression. “And Mr. Drukker fell from the wall last night. . . !”