rwards."

"Cleaned up?"

"You who washed up the stains."

"Stains? Oh, no, monsieur. Nothing of the sort has yet been done."

I felt that she was telling the truth, so far as she knew it, and I then
asked about the revolver.

"Do you know where Mr. Wells kept his revolver?"

"When I first came it was in the drawer of that table. I suggested that
it be placed beyond the children's reach. I do not know where it was
put."

"Do you recall how you left the front door when you went out? I mean,
was it locked?"

"No. The servants were out, and I knew there would be no one to admit
me. I left it unfastened."

But it was evident that she had broken a rule of the house by doing so,
for she added: "I am afraid to use the servants' entrance. It is dark
there."

"The key is always hung on the nail when they are out?"

"Yes. If any one of them is out it is left there. There is only one key.
The family is out a great deal, and it saves bringing some one down from
the servants' rooms at the top of the house."

But I think my knowledge of the key bothered her, for some reason. And
as I read over my questions, certainly they indicated a suspicion that
the situation was less simple than it appeared. She shot a quick glance
at me.

"Did you examine the revolver when you picked it up?"

"I, monsieur? Non!" Then her fears, whatever they were, got the best of
her. "I know nothing but what I tell you. I was out. I can prove that
that is so. I went to a pharmacy; the clerk will remember. I will go
with you, monsieur, and he will tell you that I used the telephone
there."

I daresay my business of cross-examination, of watching evidence helped
me to my next question.

"You went out to telephone when there is a telephone in the house?"

But here again, as once or twice before, a veil dropped between us.
She avoided my eyes. "There are things one does not want the family to
hear," she muttered. Then, having determined on a course of action, she
followed it. "I am looking for another position. I do not like it here.
The children are spoiled. I only came for a month's trial."

"And the pharmacy?"

"Elliott's, at the corner of State Avenue and McKee Street."

I told her that it would not be necessary for her to go to the pharmacy,
and she muttered something about the children and went up the stairs.
When Sperry came back with the opiate she was nowhere in sight, and he
was considerably annoyed.

"She knows something," I t