"Can't you understand, Mr. Roberts? I have no love for Eric Stannard, I never had any. His attentions annoyed me, his insistence on painting me as he wished to, also annoyed me. I would have left him long ago, but for Barry. Also, I am fond of Joyce. She has been most kind to me, and never jealous of me until lately. Now, I hated to announce that those dying words meant that Mr. Stannard put me ahead of his wife in his affection, especially as it didn't altogether mean that, it was merest chance that he saw me and not her----" "But he did see her, for he said 'Natalie, _not_ Joyce.'" "Yes, I know," and the little foot tapped the rug, impatiently,--"but, I mean, he saw me, and he was for the moment interested in me, and he was in pain, or a sort of stupor, or--oh, I don't know what his sensations were, I'm sure,--but I want to show you that he spoke at random, and it didn't mean as much as it seems to." Natalie had grown excited, her lip trembled, and her voice was unsteady. Either she was desperately anxious to make the truth clear, or she was making up a preposterous story. If she were guilty, this was a great scheme to divert the suspicion so emphasised by the victim's statement, and if she were innocent, the story she told might well be true. "Let me follow this up," said Bobsy, looking at her closely. "Then Mr. Stannard was so in love with you that he called on you in a desperate moment, rather than on his wife----" "But he didn't know it was a desperate moment. I don't believe that man was conscious at all. The stab wound was practically fatal at once. What he said and did after it, was involuntary. Don't you know what I mean? He was only half alive physically and almost not at all alive in his mind--his brain. Couldn't that be true?" "I suppose so. In fact, I think it must have been--and yet, no, it seems to me it would be logical for him to tell, even without a clear consciousness, who his assailant was. Remember Blake asked him outright. 'Who did this?' and he said----" "I know; but you didn't see him, and I did. He was not looking at Blake, he didn't even hear him. He was in a dazed state, and, seeing both Joyce and myself,--he must have seen us both,--his sub-consciousness called out for me. I am not vain of this preference, I wish it had all been otherwise, but I insist that explains his words, and--Joyce knows it, too." "How do you know she does? Have you talked with her on this subject?" "Oh, yes. We have discussed it over and over. Mrs. Faulkner and Joyce and Barry and I have gone over every bit of it a dozen times." "Is it possible? What does each of the four think? Since you deny the deed, you can tell what is the consensus of opinion in the household."