"I was not sleeping well," she began, "partly, I think, because I had
slept during the afternoon. Liddy brought me some hot milk at ten
o'clock and I slept until twelve. Then I wakened and--I got to
thinking about things, and worrying, so I could not go to sleep.
"I was wondering why I had not heard from Arnold since the--since I saw
him that night at the lodge. I was afraid he was ill, because--he was
to have done something for me, and he had not come back. It must have
been three when I heard some one rapping. I sat up and listened, to be
quite sure, and the rapping kept up. It was cautious, and I was about
to call Liddy.
"Then suddenly I thought I knew what it was. The east entrance and the
circular staircase were always used by Arnold when he was out late, and
sometimes, when he forgot his key, he would rap and I would go down and
let him in. I thought he had come back to see me--I didn't think about
the time, for his hours were always erratic. But I was afraid I was
too weak to get down the stairs.
"The knocking kept up, and just as I was about to call Liddy, she ran
through the room and out into the hall. I got up then, feeling weak
and dizzy, and put on my dressing-gown. If it was Arnold, I knew I
must see him.
"It was very dark everywhere, but, of course, I knew my way. I felt
along for the stair-rail, and went down as quickly as I could. The
knocking had stopped, and I was afraid I was too late. I got to the
foot of the staircase and over to the door on to the east veranda. I
had never thought of anything but that it was Arnold, until I reached
the door. It was unlocked and opened about an inch. Everything was
black: it was perfectly dark outside. I felt very queer and shaky.
Then I thought perhaps Arnold had used his key; he did--strange things
sometimes, and I turned around. Just as I reached the foot of the
staircase I thought I heard some one coming. My nerves were going
anyhow, there in the dark, and I could scarcely stand. I got up as far
as the third or fourth step; then I felt that some one was coming
toward me on the staircase. The next instant a hand met mine on the
stair-rail. Some one brushed past me, and I screamed. Then I must
have fainted."
That was Louise's story. There could be no doubt of its truth, and the
thing that made it inexpressibly awful to me was that the poor girl had
crept down to answer the summons of a brother who would never need her
kindly offices again. Twice now, without apparent cause, some one had
entered the house by means of the east entrance: had apparently gone
his way unhindered through the house, and gone out again as he had
entered. Had this unknown visitor been there a third time, the night
Arnold Armstrong was murdered? Or a fourth, the time Mr. Jamieson had
locked some one in the clothes chute?