not that, but not so overly slender as some—and she had on a dark cape. However, it blew apart a little and I could almost discern her costume.”
“What was it?” and more than one person present listened intently for the answer.
“I shouldn’t want to swear to this, but I rather fancy she represented ‘Winter.’ Her dress was white and sparkling, and her slippers were white with spangles like hoarfrost. And on her head was a sort of glistening headdress that sparkled, too.”
“Yes?” and the examiner turned quickly to Kate Vallon. “Do you know of any one who came dressed as ‘Winter’?” he said, hoping to catch her off her guard.
But Miss Vallon was seemingly quite ready to answer.
“There were three or four ‘Winters’ here,” she said, thoughtfully. “Two of them I know, but I don’t think they went home early. I can give you their names.”
Babcock was a bit regretful at her willingness, for he feared it meant merely a case of a “Winter” who went early to keep another engagement. Also, this tallied with the doorman’s story of the lady in white who left, frankly saying she was “going on” to keep another appointment.
He sighed, thanked Miss Goodwin again, assured her that he would call on her if he felt she could tell him anything more, and then returned to his statement that Mr. Locke must be found.
He declared that there was no conclusion possible but that Mrs. Barham had come to her death by the blow of the bronze book-end, at the hands of some person or per sons unknown. But that evidence pointed strongly to the supposition that Mr. Locke was implicated in the matter.
He said further that there "was a stain on the monk’s robe worn by Mr. Locke, which had been practically proved to be a stain of blood.
