“Was he still on the floor of the dressing-room when you came in?”
“But yes. Of course. She was alone. She could not lift him.”
“I see,” Sperry said thoughtfully. “No, I daresay she couldn’t. Was the revolver on the floor also?”
To Sperry she showed, I observed, a slight deference, but when she glanced at me, as she did after each reply, I thought her expression slightly altered. At the time this puzzled me, but it was explained when Sperry started down the stairs.
“Monsieur is of the police?” she asked, with a Frenchwoman’s timid respect for the constabulary.
I hesitated before I answered. I am a truthful man, and I hate unnecessary lying. But I ask consideration of the circumstances. Neither then nor at any time later was the solving of the Wells mystery the prime motive behind the course I laid out and consistently followed. I felt that we might be on the verge of some great psychic discovery, one which would revolutionize human thought and to a certain extent human action. And toward that end I was prepared to go to almost any length.
“I am making a few investigations,” I told her. “You say Mrs. Wells was alone in the house, except for her husband?”
“Mr. Wells was shaving, I believe, when the--er--impulse overtook him?”
There was no doubt as to her surprise. “Shaving? I think not.”
“What sort of razor did he ordinarily use?”
“A safety razor always. At least I have never seen any others around.”
“There is a case of old-fashioned razors in the bathroom.”
She glanced toward the room and shrugged her shoulders. “Possibly he used others. I have not seen any.”
“It was you, I suppose, who cleaned up afterwards.”
“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.”