“No,” she faltered. “When I saw him again he was down in the hall. Some men were carrying him in—dead! Oh, it’s awful! I—I can’t realise it!” And she burst into a torrent of tears.
“It certainly is a most painful affair,” said Bullen, sympathetically; “but we are striving our utmost to solve the mystery. Therefore, I trust you will forgive me for seeking this interview. Whatever information you can give us will assist us very materially in our inquiries.”
“I don’t think I can tell you anything more,” declared the distressed woman.
“But what is your theory? Do you believe that the announcement that he was not feeling well was a mere excuse for absence?”
“Ah, that I cannot tell,” she responded. “The house was locked up at midnight, and it was evident that he was out then, for this morning all the doors were bolted, and the windows were found fastened, just as the servants had left them.”
“Well,” he said, “that shows that he went out before the house was locked up. Were any of the other guests out in the park?”
“Not to my knowledge,” she replied, after a second’s hesitation. “Of course the men went out upon the drive in front of the house, and walked up and down to smoke after dinner.”
“From your statement it would almost appear as though your husband went out to keep some secret appointment. Have you any suspicion that he had arranged to meet any one?”
“None whatever.”
“And he had never mentioned to you any single person with whom he was at enmity?”