ain't it!"

"And then?" I protested, crossly.

"Well, Mr. Hunt, when the Iffley woman turned the hall corner--the door
of your poor wife's room opens, and Miss Blake walks out. She had the
paper-knife in her right hand, and the knife and her hand was all
bloody; her left hand was bloody too; and we've found blood on her
clothes since. There was a queer, vacant look about her--that's what the
maid says. She didn't seem to see anythin'. Naturally, the maid was
scared stiff--but she got one look in at the door anyway--that was
enough for her. She was too scared even to yell, she says.
Paralyzed--she just flopped back against the wall half faintin'.

"And then she noticed somethin' that kind of brought her to again! Mr.
Hunt, that young woman, Miss Blake--she'd gone quiet as you please and
curled herself down on a rug in the hallway--that bloody knife in her
hand--and she was either dead or fast asleep! And then the doorbell
rang, and the Iffley woman says she don't know how she got past that
prostrate figger on the rug--her very words, Mr. Hunt--that prostrate
figger on the rug--but she did, somehow; got to the door. And when she
opened it, there was Doctor Askew and the elevator man. And then she
passed out. And I must say I don't much blame her, considerin'."

"Where's Miss Blake now?" I sharply demanded.

"She's still fast asleep, Mr. Hunt--to call it that. The doc says
it's--somethin' or other--due to shock. Same as a trance."

I started up. "Where is Doctor Askew? I must see him at once!"

"We've laid Miss Blake on the bed in Mrs. Arthur's room. He's observin'
her."

"Take me there."

"I'll do that, Mr. Hunt. But I'll ask you a question first--straight. Is
there any doubt in your mind that that young lady--your ward--killed
Mrs. Hunt?"

I met his gray-blue glance directly, pausing a moment before I spoke.
"Sergeant Conlon," I replied, while a meteor-shower of speculation shot
through me with the rapidity of light waves, "there is no doubt whatever
in my mind: Miss Blake could not--and so did not--kill my wife."

"Who did, then?"

"Wait! Let me first ask you a question, sergeant: Who sent for Doctor
Askew?"

"That's the queerest part of it; Miss Blake did."

"Ah! _How?_"

"There's a 'phone in Mrs. Hunt's sittin' room. Miss Blake called the
house operator, gave her name and location, and said not to waste a
moment--to send up a doctor double-quick!"

"Is that _all_ she said?"

"No. The operator t