Was I mistaken in those features? No. It was the same face—undoubtedly the same face!
The portrait was exactly similar, but somewhat larger, than that which Eric and I had discovered in Winsloe’s kitbag—the picture of the dead unknown!
A sudden suggestion occurred to me to obtain possession of it. It might be of the greatest use to us in establishing the unfortunate man’s identity. I therefore took it up, glanced at it, and in an abstracted manner placed it upon a side table near a curtain, intending later on to transfer it to the pocket of my overcoat—even at the risk of committing the offence of theft. In this I saw no harm. I was seeking to solve a mystery; and surely every mode was fair, now that a man had been done to death.
I recollected Eric’s terrible accusation, and held my breath.
Yes, he was Sybil’s secret lover without a doubt. Those letters were sufficient proof of that.
And yet was it not strange that Mrs Parham should place the portrait in her room in a position so conspicuous?
The constable was as much puzzled as myself regarding the motive of the attack.
My own theory was that there had been two men lurking in the house, and hearing Mrs Parham playing the piano, they managed to enter the room unobserved, for there was a large Japanese screen before the door. An instant afterwards the maid entered, switched on the light, and let down the blinds, but while doing so, the men so suddenly discovered made a bold attack upon both, deftly twisting the scarves about their faces ere either of them could call for assistance.
The maid had evidently been attacked from behind by one of the men concealed at the back of the curtain at the moment when she had lowered the last blind. From this fact I suspected that the girl knew them and they feared recognition.
Yet the reason of that bold, desperate attack was surely an entire mystery.