"No," said Miss Bull, decisively. "She trusted no one that far. And I don't think she had a single friend outside this house."

"And very few in it," muttered Mrs. Taine, who on various occasions had suffered from Madame's tongue.

"In that case," said Quex, rising to take his leave, "there is nothing more to be discussed. Who killed Mrs. Jersey, or why she was killed, will probably never be known. Ladies and gentlemen, good-day," and the inspector bowed himself stiffly out of the room, with the air of a man who washed his hands of the whole concern.

And, after all, what could he do? There was no proof likely to indicate any one as the assassin, and since Leonard kept silent on the point of the front door having been opened after eleven, it was impossible to say that the criminal had entered the house. Had Mr. Inspector know. . . Read More