“And blew out the candle?”
“Exactly.”
Holmes asked no further question, and Barker, with a deliberate look from one to the other of us, which had, as it seemed to me, something of defiance in it, turned and left the room.
Inspector MacDonald had sent up a note to the effect that he would wait upon Mrs. Douglas in her room; but she had replied that she would meet us in the dining room. She entered now, a tall and beautiful woman of thirty, reserved and self-possessed to a remarkable degree, very different from the tragic and distracted figure I had pictured. It is true that her face was pale and drawn, like that of one who has endured a great shock; but her manner was composed, and the finely moulded hand which she rested upon the edge of the table was as steady as my own. Her sad, appealing eyes travelled from one to the other of us with a curiously inquisitive expression. That questioning gaze transformed itself suddenly into abrupt speech.
“Have you found anything out yet?” she asked.
Was it my imagination that there was an undertone of fear rather than of hope in the question?
“We have taken every possible step, Mrs. Douglas,” said the inspector. “You may rest assured that nothing will be neglected.”
“Spare no money,” she said in a dead, even tone. “It is my desire that every possible effort should be made.”
“Perhaps you can tell us something which may throw some light upon the matter.”