The young lawyer was palpably uncomfortable beneath the leaden, red-rimmed stare of his senior. “Why—er—Stimson, the butler, was here, of course. Miss Mount and Susan, one of the housemaids, were in the reception-room. Helen, the other housemaid, was helping my wife. The cook must have been in the kitchen. I don’t know about the chauffeur. Probably he was somewhere about.”
“Is that all the servants?” rumbled Bernard.
“So far as I know. I’ve never seen the cook, though there must be one—and a good one!”
“How much can you tell us,” queried Bernard, “as to the exact location in the house of all these people at the moment Harrison was shot?”
“Very little, I’m afraid. I was in the bathtub. Miss Mount tells me that she and Susan were in the reception-room when Harrison fell almost at their feet. Mrs. Graham was in her own room because she heard the scream and—”
“What scream?” Landis interrupted.
“Susan screamed when Mr. Harrison fell.”
“I see. Go ahead.”
“Mrs. Graham banged on the bathroom door to tell me that she and Helen had both heard a scream. Helen was with her then.”
“Did you hear the scream?”