Part 8 (1/2)
”I did not quite catch your answer,” Durham said quietly.
”I said yes, there was--once.”
”Did he tell you what was said?”
”I don't know,” she said after a few moments' silence. ”You had better ask the bank. I don't know anything about it.”
”Perhaps you know why your husband was appointed to this branch?”
”I don't know anything about it,” she replied in a low tone.
”It may save time if I tell you at once, Mrs. Eustace, that the general manager of the bank has put me in possession of all information regarding your husband--you will not improve the situation by denying what I know you thoroughly understand.”
Mrs. Eustace looked up and met a glance which gave her the uncomfortable sensation of being looked through and through. She lowered her eyes more quickly than she had raised them, paled and then flushed blood-red.
”Your husband did not escape through the kitchen,” Durham said in his even tone of voice.
”I have already said so,” Mrs. Eustace replied, scarcely above a whisper.
”He left this room by the window.”
The blood left her cheeks as she started. Harding saw her hands clasp tightly.
”And you secured the window on the inside after he had gone.”
”No!”
The monosyllable escaped her lips like the yap of a dog at bay.
”You secured the window on the inside after he had gone,” Durham repeated in cold, unruffled tones.
Mrs. Eustace sprang to her feet and faced him.
”It's a lie,” she cried. ”The room was empty when I came to it.”
”The room was empty, quite so. And the window was open. You closed and secured it.”
”I tell you I did not.”
”You have already said that you only stood at the kitchen door until you went to the office to ask whether your husband was there. Now you say the room was empty when you came to it. Which statement do you expect me to believe?”
”I don't care what you believe,” she cried. ”You have no right to ask me these questions. I will not answer you. Mr. Harding, I appeal to you. If you have no regard for the honour of an absent friend, at least you might protect the wife of your friend from insult.”
Durham's eyes never wavered as he watched her.
”No insult is offered or intended, Mrs. Eustace,” he said quietly. ”Mr.
Harding, in the interests of the bank, as well as in the interests of your husband, is desirous, as we all are, of knowing the truth. I will ask you one more question: Where were you when Mrs. Burke left the dining-room and crossed the pa.s.sage to the front door?”
Mrs. Eustace, with close-set lips, stood defiantly silent.