Out in the corridor we met the butler, by whom Bullen sent his card to the widow with the request that she would grant us an interview. Ten minutes later we were received in the morning-room by a pale, fair-haired, rather fragile woman, the redness of whose eyes told plainly that she had been crying, but whose improvised mourning became her well. She was perhaps thirty, certainly not more, rather handsome, with an air of self-conceit, and a slightly cockney accent in her voice, which told me that she was not quite so well bred as one might have expected the mistress of Whitton to have been. Bullen apologised for being compelled to intrude upon her privacy, but explained that it was necessary to make searching inquiries into the painful affair, and he would therefore esteem it a favour if she would answer one or two questions. To this she assented willingly, and, asking us to be seated, sank into an armchair. The detective had not introduced me, therefore she no doubt believed me to be an emissary of Scotland Yard. "Have you any idea of the hour at which the Colonel left the house?" asked Bullen. "No. I think, however, it must have been about half-past ten," she responded in a hard voice. I was watching her carefully, and saw by the nervous twitching of her hands that she was striving to calm the conflicting emotions within her. She kept her eyes--beautiful eyes of almost a violet tint--fixed upon her examiner. "But if he went out as early as that, you would surely wonder why he did not return?" observed the detective. "Ah, no," she said quickly. "I was in ignorance of his absence until-- until my maid awoke me at a quarter-past five this morning, and told me of the awful discovery." She pursed her lips very slightly. That almost imperceptible movement aroused my suspicions. I had been told that she was on bad terms with the dead man, and probably that had prejudiced me against her. "Then he went out without your knowledge? Will you kindly tell me how you spent the evening?!" "How I spent the evening?" she asked with a slight start. "I mean how you all spent the evening," he said, correcting himself. "You had guests here, I understand." "Yes; we had quite a number of people. And after dinner, as usual, the men played billiards and smoked, while we women remained in the drawing-room. About half-past nine the men joined us, a couple of dances were played, some songs were sung, and the evening passed without further event, as far as I am aware." "But your husband?" "Well, about half-past ten he came to me and said that he was not feeling very well, therefore he should go to his room." "And you never again saw him alive?" "No," she faltered. "When I saw him again he was down in the hall. Some men were carrying him in--dead! Oh, it's awful! I--I can't realise it!" And she burst into a torrent of tears.