“Leaving you alone with Mary Gerrard?”
“Yes.”
“What happened next?”
“After a few minutes I picked up the tray and the sandwich plate and carried them into the pantry. Nurse Hopkins was there, and we washed them together.”
“Did Nurse Hopkins have her cuffs off at the time?”
“Yes. She was washing the things, while I dried them.”
“Did you make a certain remark to her about a scratch on her wrist?”
“I asked her if she had pricked herself.”
“What did she reply?”
“She said, ‘It was a thorn from the rose tree outside the Lodge. I’ll get it out presently.’”
“What was her manner at the time?”
“I think she was feeling the heat. She was perspiring and her face was a queer colour.”
“What happened after that?”
“We went upstairs, and she helped me with my aunt’s things.”
“What time was it when you went downstairs again?”
“It must have been an hour later.”
“Where was Mary Gerrard?”
“She was sitting in the morning room. She was breathing very queerly and was in a coma. I rang up the doctor on Nurse Hopkins’ instructions. He arrived just before she died.”
Sir Edwin squared his shoulders dramatically.
“Miss Carlisle, did you kill Mary Gerrard?”
(That’s your cue! Head up, eyes straight.)
“No!”
III
Sir Samuel Attenbury. A sick beating at one’s heart. Now—now she was at the mercy of an enemy! No more gentleness, no more questions to which she knew the answers!
But he began quite mildly.
“You were engaged to be married, you have told us, to Mr. Roderick Welman?”
“Yes.”
“You were fond of him?”
“Very fond.”
“I put it to you that you were deeply in love with Roderick Welman and that you were wildly jealous of his love for Mary Gerrard?”