“Empty!” she echoed, raising herself to her feet with an effort, but reeling unsteadily back to the couch, for her head was still swimming after the effects of the chloroform. “The fiends!” she cried.
“And poor Jane. How is she?”
“I much regret, madam, that the chloroform administered to her has had a fatal effect,” said the doctor, gravely.
“Dead! Jane dead?”
“Yes. They’ve killed her,” declared the inspector. “It’s wilful murder, that’s what it is, mum. Therefore, if you can give us any information as to who these ruffians may be we’ll be very glad. We must arrest them at all costs. Who do you think they might be?”
But Mrs Parham, although a strange look crossed her white, haggard features, made no response to the officer’s question.
“Poor Jane! Poor Jane—the brutes!” she kept on repeating, her wild eyes staring across to where the body of the dead maid-servant was lying.
From her manner I felt convinced that she suspected who the intruders were, now that she knew that their motive had been to search in that secret cavity beneath the floor of the drawing-room, and possess themselves of something concealed there.
Would she denounce them?
The inspector again questioned her, but her answers were evasive.