appears so, certainly. I will ask you then, for your own account, Mr. Leroux, of the arrival of the woman in the civet furs. Pay special attention”—he pointed with his fountain-pen—“to the time at which the various incidents occurred.”
Leroux, growing calmer as he proceeded with the strange story, complied with the inspector’s request. He had practically completed his account when the door-bell rang.
“It’s the servants,” said Dr. Cumberly. “Soames will open the door.”
But Soames did not appear.
The ringing being repeated:—
“I told him to remain in his room,” said Dunbar, “until I rang for him, I remember—”
“I will open the door,” said Cumberly.
“And tell the servants to stay in the kitchen,” snapped Dunbar.
Dr. Cumberly opened the door, admitting the cook and housemaid.
“There has been an unfortunate accident,” he said—“but not to your master; you need not be afraid. But be good enough to remain in the kitchen for the present.”
Peeping in furtively as they passed, the two women crossed the lobby and went to their own quarters.
“Mr. Soames next,” muttered Dunbar, and, glancing at Cumberly as he returned from the lobby:—“Will you ring for him?” he requested.
