“Mr. Paul Harley,” Camber continued, “my wife welcomes you; and this, Ysola, is Inspector Aylesbury, who desires a few moments’ conversation upon a rather painful matter.”
“I have heard, I have heard,” she whispered. “Ah Tsong has told me.”
The pupils of her eyes dilated, as she fixed an appealing glance upon the Inspector.
In justice to the latter he was palpably abashed by the delicate beauty of the girl who stood before him, by her naïveté, and by that childishness of appearance and manner which must have awakened the latent chivalry in almost any man’s heart.
“I am sorry to have to trouble you with this disagreeable business, Mrs. Camber,” he began; “but I believe you were awakened last night by the sound of a shot.”
“Yes,” she replied, watching him intently, “that is so.”
“May I ask at what time this was heard?”
“Ah Tsong told me it was after twelve o’clock.”
“Was the sound a loud one?”
“Yes. It must have been to have awakened me.”
“I see. Did you think it was in the house?”
“Oh, no.”
“In the garden?”
“I really could not say, but I think that it was farther away than that.”
“And what did you do?”
“I rang the bell for Ah Tsong.”
“Did he come immediately?”
“Almost immediately.”
“He was dressed, then?”
