"Quite an accident," said Prudence. "Simply an overdose. The bottle broke, you see, so the poor dear made haste to swallow the contents, and accidently took too much."
"I really think, Miss Semaphore," said Mrs. Wilcox very slowly, "I really think your mind is wandering."
"Oh no, indeed I'm not wandering. That was how it happened, and of course after that I had to get rid of the poor dear, especially as I never dreamt you knew anything about it."
More and more confirmed in her belief that Prudence was either raving or confessing a murder, Mrs. Wilcox spoke.
"Well, without enquiring further as to what has happened, or how it happened, having no desire to be mixed up in a very painful affair, I think, Miss Semaphore, we had better part, and the sooner you can make it convenient the better."
"Oh, do keep me until after Monday," cried Prudence, breaking down. "The trial will be on Monday, and that will decide what course I must take; but now I am ill, I am not fit to undertake packing. I cannot go."
