She turned to the window close beside her. “This flood may end to-morrow, but it’s the act of Providence all the same!”
“Oh, come, Mrs. Bartholomew,” protested Belvoir’s soft voice. “It’s deuced inconvenient; no two ways about that. We may have to take spades and bury our poor friend here on the spot if it keeps up.”
“That was his wish, wasn’t it?” she retorted. “I say this sundering flood has been our one blessing. How shall the guilty escape now, if he is not one of us? And if he is one of us—” Her eyes beneath that lustrous black hair shone like gems in a mine. “If he is, he will betray himself before the flood goes down!”
“Bravo!” exclaimed Lord Ludlow. “Madam, I applaud you. You have feeling, and I respect you for it.”
Miss Lebetwood raised her voice to the man across the room. “That sounds like an indictment of me, sir.”
“Never!”
The American went on. “I suppose I seem to have no grief, no feeling. I am passionless; oh, yes! I tell you I am devoted to only one thing, the finding of the murderer. My task commences to-day, this hour, now. I see by the look on all your faces, and one of them still may be a murderer’s face, that you are shocked. No, I have sorrow; I am not hard-hearted, save for a purpose. I have sorrow—you will never know how much—but I must get it behind me.”
The easy tones of Superintendent Salt intervened. “Miss, I wouldn’t feel so. Everyone is heartily takin’ your part. Why you should think otherwise I don’t know. And have no doubt of one thing: we shall get at the heart of this mystery soon.”
“We must,” said Eve Bartholomew. “The innocent suffer as well as the guilty.”
“I am now going to make a careful inspection of the House,” said Salt. “I got the lay of the land before turnin’ in last night, but now, ladies and gentlemen, I shall take the liberty of lookin’ through your rooms. Mr. Pendleton, I particularly want to see those store-places Mr. Cosgrove evidently had a fancy for, and the cellars. Plenty of cellars, of course?”