"You mean," Bobby said, "that you heard a woman crying?"
Jenkins nodded. "It woke me up."
"If you didn't think it was one of the maids," Graham asked, "what did you make of it?"
"I thought it came from outside. I thought it was a woman prowling around the house. Then I said to myself, why should a woman prowl around the Cedars? And it was too unearthly, sir, and I remembered the way Mr. Silas was murdered, and the awful thing that happened to his body this afternoon, and I—you won't think me foolish, sirs?—I doubted if it was a human voice I had heard."
"No," Graham said dryly, "we won't think you foolish."
"So I thought I'd better wake you up and tell you."
Graham turned to Bobby.
"Katherine and you and I," he said, "fancied the crying was in the room with us. Jenkins is sure it came from outside the house. That is significant."
"Wherever it came from," Bobby said softly, "it was like some one mourning for Howells."
Jenkins started.