Part 21 (2/2)
”When did you last see Mr. Embury alive, ma'am?”
”Last night,” replied Eunice, ”about midnight, when we retired.”
”He was in his usual health and spirits?”
”Yes.”
”You have two bedrooms?”
”Yes.”
”Door between?”
”Yes.”
”Open or shut--after you said good-night to Mr. Embury?”
”Closed.”
”Locked?”
”No.”
”Who shut it.”
”Mr. Embury.”
”Bang it?”
”Sir?”
”Did he bang it shut? Slam it?”
”Mr. Embury was a gentleman.”
”Yes, I know. Did he slam that door?”
”N--, no.”
”He did,” and Driscoll nodded his head, as if not minding Eunice's stammered denial, but not believing it, either.
”Now, as he closed that door with a bang, ma'am, I gather that you two had a--well, say, a little tiff--a quarrel. Might as well own up, ma'am,--it'll come out, and it's better you should tell me the truth.”
”I am not accustomed to telling anything else!” Eunice declared, holding herself together with a very evident effort. ”Mr. Embury and I had a slight difference of opinion, but not enough to call a quarrel.”
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