"I didn't think anything about that. One doesn't have coherent thoughts at such a moment. I realised that he had been stabbed, so of course, I assumed an assailant. Then I saw his wife and Miss Vernon standing near him, and I had no thought save to assist in any way I might. I cried out to Blake to get a doctor, and then I went to Mrs. Stannard's side, just as she was about to faint." "Did she faint?" "No, that is, she did not entirely lose consciousness, though greatly agitated. And then, soon, the butler and Miller, Mr. Stannard's valet, came in, and after that Barry came and--and everything seemed to happen at once. Doctor Keith came----" "One moment, Mrs. Faulkner, you are getting ahead of your story. What about the words uttered by Mr. Stannard before he died?" "They were so inarticulate as to be unintelligible." "You swear this?" "I do. If he said 'Joyce' or 'Natalie,' it is not at all strange, considering that those two women were in his sight. But I repeat that he did not say them in a connected sentence, nor did he himself mean any real statement. It was the unconscious speech of a dying man. In another instant he was gone." Though outwardly calm, Beatrice Faulkner's voice trembled, and was so low as to be scarcely audible. But she stood her ground bravely, and her eyes met Barry's for a moment, in the briefest glance of understanding and approval. "Hum," commented the astute Roberts to his favourite confidant, himself, "the Barry person is in love with the dolly-baby girl, and the queenly lady is his friend, and she's helping him out. She isn't telling all she knows, or if she is, she's colouring it to save the implicated ladies." "What is your position in this house, Mrs. Faulkner?" The faintest gleam of amusement passed over the white face. It was almost as if he thought her a housekeeper or governess. "I am a guest," she returned, simply. "I have been staying here a few weeks for the purpose of having my portrait painted by Mr. Stannard." "You previously owned this house, did you not?" "My late husband, an architect of note, built it. Later, it was sold to Mr. Stannard, who has lived in it nearly two years." "Where were you just before you came down the stairs and saw Blake?" "In the Drawing Room, on the second floor, at the other end of the house. I had been entertaining a guest, and as he had just taken leave, I went down stairs to rejoin my hostess." "Where did you expect to find Mrs. Stannard?" "Where I had left her, in the Billiard Room." "You left her there? How long before?" "An hour or so. There were several guests at dinner, and they had drifted to the various rooms afterward." "Who were the guests at dinner?" "Mr. Wadsworth, who was with me in the Drawing Room; Mr. Courtenay, a neighbour, and Mr. and Mrs. Truxton, who also live nearby." "Mrs. Truxton, the jewel collector?" "Yes; that is the one." "There was no one else at dinner?"