"It will be hard for you, I know," he said gently, as he placed a chair for her, "but I want you to tell me just what occurred at the time of Mr. Stannard's death. Tell only your own part, only what you, yourself, did or saw." "You suspect I killed my husband?" said Joyce, in a choking whisper. "It will depend on your story, what I suspect. Do not be afraid and do not distrust me, Mrs. Stannard. I want to help you, in any case. Whatever the truth, I can help you, and I want to assure you of that." The infinite gentleness of his tone, the kind light in his eyes and the utter sympathy evident in his whole manner reassured Joyce, and in a low voice she began. "I have told it so many times, I know it by heart. I was in the Billiard Room with Mr. Courtenay. I will not explain or defend the fact that I was there alone with him, but merely state that I was. He left me, and as I was heartsick over my own private and personal affairs, I buried my head in a sofa-cushion and cried. Not a real crying spell of sobs and tears, but an emotion which I endeavoured to restrain or control that I might meet others without causing comment. As I bowed my head there, I am positive I heard my husband talking to some woman." "Miss Vernon?" "I thought so at first, now I am not sure it was she." "Mrs. Faulkner?" "Oh, no. She was in the Drawing Room at the other end of the house. No, it must have been either my imagination or some woman who had somehow entered and who afterward disappeared." "Go on." "I heard him say, or I thought I did, that she could have the emeralds, but he refused to marry her." "Yes," a little impatiently. "I know about that. Tell me what happened." "Then I heard a strange, gasping sound, and I rushed in----" "Was the room light then?" "No, dark. The light went out that instant or a moment before. I pushed in, and I heard a sound opposite--on the other side of the room. At first, I thought it was my husband, but it was a quick, frightened breathing, and then the light flashed on and I saw it was Miss Vernon, huddled against the wall--no, against a small table, and looking scared to death. Do you wonder that I thought she had done something wrong? For just then I caught sight of my husband, stabbed, dying--oh, I knew in that first glance that he had been murdered. Then, I saw Blake and Mrs. Faulkner at the other end of the room. They were shocked and frightened, too, but I paid no attention to them, I looked right back to Eric. And he--well, the footman did ask him who did it--and he raised his hand and said 'Neither Natalie nor Joyce.'" "Are you sure that's what he said?" "I am sure now. At the time he said it, he spoke so thickly I could scarcely understand him, and I thought he said 'Natalie, not Joyce.' But we had a clairvoyant here, and she said he said 'nor' and then I realized at once that that was what he did say!" "Meaning, of course, that you two women were innocent, and that some other hand had struck the blow?"