The inspector came upon them as they were going to her room. “I’ve finished upstairs, sir. Not much for me, is there? Plenty downstairs, though. I reckon I’ll hear some queer stories before I’ve done. These homes are always full of gossip. People living too close together, wonderful what bad blood it makes. I----” He broke off and stared at Reggie. From the matron’s room came the sound of sobbing. He opened the door without a knock. The matron sat at her writing-table, coldly judicial. A girl in nurse’s uniform was crying on the bosom of Lady Chantry, who caressed her and murmured in her ear. “Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” the inspector said, staring hard. “You don’t interrupt. This girl is Edith Baker, who seems to have been the last person who saw Dr. Hall alive and was certainly the first person who saw her dead.” “And who was very, very fond of her,” Lady Chantry said gently. “Weren’t you, dear?” “I’ll have to take her statement,” said the inspector. But the girl was torn with sobbing. “Come, dear, come.” Lady Chantry strove with her. “The Inspector only wants you to say how you left her and how you found her.” “Edith, you must control yourself.” The matron lifted her voice. “I hate you,” the girl cried, and tore herself away and rushed out of the room. “She’ll have to speak, you know, ma’am,” the inspector said. “I am very sorry to say she has always had a passionate temperament,” said the matron. “Poor child!” Lady Chantry rose. “She was so fond of the doctor, you see. I’ll go to her, matron, and see what I can do.” “Does anyone here know what the girl was up to this afternoon, ma’am?” said the inspector. “I will try to find out for you,” said the matron, and rang her bell. “Well, well,” said Reggie Fortune. “Every little helps. You might find out what all the other people were doing this afternoon.” The matron stared at him. “Surely you’re not thinking of the visitors, Mr. Fortune?” “I’m thinking of your children,” said Reggie, and she was the more amazed. “Not a nice murder, you know, not at all a nice murder.” And then he took Miss Amber home. She found him taciturn, which is his habit when he is angry. But she had never seen him angry before. She is a wise woman. When he was leaving her: “Do you know what it is about you, sir?” she said. “You’re always just right.” When the Hon. Sidney Lomas came to his room in Scotland Yard the next morning, Reggie Fortune was waiting for him. “My dear fellow!” he protested. “What is this? You’re not really up, are you? It’s not eleven. You’re an hallucination.” “Zeal, all zeal, Lomas. The orphanage murder is my trouble.”