“Nothing. She was about to tell me something when the shot was fired by someone on the veranda outside.”
“H’m! Then the natural surmise would be that you, suspecting that woman of causing your father’s death, shot her because she refused to tell you anything?”
“I repeat she was about to disclose the circumstances—to divulge her secret, when she was struck down.”
“You have no suspicion of anyone? You don’t think that her manservant—I forget the fellow’s name—fired the shot? Remember, he was not in the room at the time!”
“I feel confident that he did not. He was far too distressed at the terrible affair,” said Hugh. “The outrage must have been committed by someone to whom the preservation of the secret of my father’s end was of most vital importance.”
“Agreed,” replied the man with the black glove. “The problem we have to solve is who was responsible for your father’s death.”
“Yes,” said Hugh. “If that shot had not been fired I should have known the truth.”
“You think, then, that Mademoiselle of Monte Carlo would have told you the truth?” asked the bristly-haired man with a mysterious smile.
“Yes. She would.”
“Well, Mr. Henfrey, I think I am not of your opinion.”