Inspector Aylesbury is coming back at nine o’clock, is he not?”
“At half-past eight, so I understand.”
“I am afraid I have very little to tell him. I was sitting in my room in an appalling state of nerves when the shot was fired. I was not even reading; I was just waiting, waiting, for something to happen.”
“I understand. My own experience was nearly identical.”
“Then,” continued the girl, “as I unlocked my door and peeped out, feeling too frightened to venture farther in the darkness, I heard Madame’s voice in the hall below.”
“Crying for help?”
“No,” replied the girl, a puzzled frown appearing between her brows. “She cried out something in French. The intonation told me that it was French, although I could not detect a single word. Then I thought I heard a moan.”
“And you ran down?”
“Yes. I summoned up enough courage to turn on the light in the corridor and to run down to the hall. And there she was lying just outside the door of her room.”
“Was her room in darkness?”
“Yes. I turned on the light and succeeded in partly raising her, but she was too heavy for me to lift. I was still trying to revive her when Pedro opened the door of the servants’ quarters. Oh,” she closed her eyes wearily, “I shall never forget it.”
I took her hand and pressed it reassuringly.
“Your courage has been wonderful throughout,” I declared, “and I hope it will remain so to the end.”
