Part 26 (1/2)
”Well, sir, they were, I should judge, a little at odds.”
”Oh, they were! In what way did they show it? By quarreling?”
”No, sir.”
”How, then?”
”By not saying anything. But it's not uncommon for them to be at odds, sir--”
”Speak when you're spoken to! After Mr. Embury went to his room, did you attend him?”
”I was in his room, yes.”
”Mrs. Embury was in her own room then?”
”Yes.”
”Her outer door was closed?”
”Yes.”
”And, therefore, fastened by the snap-bolt?”
”Yes, I suppose so.”
”Don't you know so? Don't you know that it must have been?”
”Yes.”
”And then--then, when you left Mr. Embury's room--when you left him for the night-did you close his door?”
”I did.”
”And that, of itself, locked that door?”
”Yes, I suppose so.”
”Stop saying you suppose so. You know it did! You've lived in this house two years; you know how those doors work--you know your closing that door locked it? Didn't it?”
”Yes, it did. I turned the k.n.o.b afterward to make sure. I always do that.”
Ferdinand now seemed to be as discursive as he was reticent before.
”And I know Miss Eunice's--Mrs. Embury's door was locked, because she had to unbolt it before I could get in this morning.”
”But look here,” Driscoll broke in, ”are these doors on that snap-bolt all day? Isn't that rather an inconvenience?”
”Not all day,” vouchsafed Ferdinand. ”They can be turned so the bolt doesn't catch, and are turned that way in the daytime, usually.”
”But,” and Driscoll looked at him intently, ”you can swear that the bolts were on last night?”
”Yes, sir--”