"Yes, I did. I had forgotten it, but I remember now." And the
glance she cast him while not meeting his eye showed that she
understood the importance of the admission. "I know," she said,
"what you are going to ask me now. Did I feel anything there but
the flowers and the tulle? No, Mr. Gryce, I did not. There was
no poniard in the wound."

Mr. Gryce felt around, found a chair and sank into it.

"You are a truthful woman," said he. "And," he added more slowly,
"composed enough in character I should judge not to have made any
mistake on this very vital point."

"I think so, Mr. Gryce. I was in a state of excitement, of course;
but the woman was a stranger to me, and my feelings were not unduly
agitated."

"Sweetwater, we can let my suggestion go in regard to those ten
minutes I spoke of. The time is narrowed down to one, and in that
one, Miss Clarke was the only person to touch her."

"The only one," echoed the lady, catching perhaps the slight
rising sound of query in his voice.

"I will trouble you no further." So said the old detective,
thoughtfully. "Sweetwater, help me out of this." His eye was dull
and his manner betrayed exhaustion. But vigour returned to him
before he had well reached the door, and he showed some of his old
spirit as he thanked Miss Clarke and turned to take the elevator.