dress, and her hands shook slightly, in
spite of her effort to appear composed. Merrington stared at her
careworn face and hollow grey eyes with the perplexed sensation of a man
who is confronted with a face familiar to him, but is unable to recall
its identity.

"Where have I seen you before?" he blurted out.

The housekeeper raised frightened eyes, ringed with black, to his
truculent face, but dropped them again without speaking. Merrington did
not repeat his question. He did not imagine the housekeeper knew
anything about the murder, but it was a mistake to put a witness on her
guard. It was in quite a different tone that he thanked Mrs. Rath for
sending the servants to the library, and asked her to describe the
household arrangements of the previous night. Mrs. Rath, who had been
palpably nervous after his first question, became reassured and more at
her ease, and answered him intelligently.

"And where were you at the time of the murder, Mrs. Rath?" pursued
Merrington, when he had drawn forth these details.

"I was in my sitting-room."

"Did you hear the scream and the shot?"

"I heard the scream, but not the shot."

"How was that?"

"My sitting-room is a long way from Mrs. Heredith's room. Perhaps that
is the reason."

Merrington looked at the position of the housekeeper's room on the plan
of the moat-house which Caldew had drawn. As she said, it was a
considerable distance to her room, which was in the old portion of the
house, near the rear, and on the ground floor.

"Were you alone in your room?" he asked.

"No. My daughter was sitting with me."

To a quick ear it may have seemed that the answer was a trifle long in
coming.

Merrington shook his head irritably. Really, it seemed impossible to
reach the end of the people who were in this infernal moat-house at the
time of the murder.

"Does your daughter live with you here?" he asked.

"Oh, no. She came to see me yesterday afternoon, and stayed all night
because she missed her train back after--after the tragedy."

"Is she here now?"

"No. She went away by an early train. She is employed as a milliner at
Stading, the market town, which is ten miles away."

"She lives there, I suppose?"

"Yes. She lives in."

"Who is her employer?"

"Mr. Closeby, the draper. Daniel Closeby and Son is the name of the
firm."

Merrington made another note in his pocket-book. It sounded plausible
enough, but the girl must be added to the lengthening li