It was in the bathroom that he told me Elinor's story. According
to her, it was a simple case of suicide. And she was honest about
it, in her own way. She was shocked, but she was not pretending
any wild grief. She hadn't wanted him to die, but she had not felt
that they could go on much longer together. There had been no
quarrel other than their usual bickering. They had been going to
a dance that night. The servants had all gone out immediately after
dinner to a servants' ball and the governess had gone for a walk.
She was to return at nine-thirty to fasten Elinor's gown and to be
with the children.

Arthur, she said, had been depressed for several days, and at
dinner had hardly spoken at all. He had not, however, objected to
the dance. He had, indeed, seemed strangely determined to go,
although she had pleaded a headache. At nine o'clock he went
upstairs, apparently to dress.

She was in her room, with the door shut, when she heard a shot.
She ran in and found him lying on the floor of his dressing-room
with his revolver behind him. The governess was still out. The
shot had roused the children, and they had come down from the
nursery above. She was frantic, but she had to soothe them. The
governess, however, came in almost immediately, and she had sent
her to the telephone to summon help, calling Sperry first of all,
and then the police.

"Have you seen the revolver?" I asked.

"Yes. It's all right, apparently. Only one shot had been fired."