“And were suddenly seized with a desire for homicide? They also went to the gymnasium and the kitchen. Did any of them start boiling potatoes? My dear Fortune, you are not as plausible as usual.” “It isn’t plausible,” Reggie said. “I know that. It’s too dam’ wicked.” “Abnormal,” Lomas nodded. “Of course the essence of the thing is that it’s abnormal. Every once in a while we have these murders in an orphanage or school or some place where women and children are herded together. Nine times out of ten they are cases of hysteria. Your young friend Miss Baker seems to be a highly hysterical subject.” “You know more than I do.” “Why, that’s in the evidence. And you saw her yourself half crazy with emotion after the murder.” “Good Lord!” said Reggie. “Lomas, old thing, you do run on. Pantin’ time toils after you in vain. That girl wasn’t crazy. She was the most natural of us all. You send a girl in her teens into the room where the woman she is keen on is sitting with her throat cut. She won’t talk to you like a little lady. The evidence! Why do you believe what people tell you about people? They’re always lying--by accident if not on purpose. This matron don’t like the girl because she worshipped the lady doctor. Therefore the girl is called abnormal and jealous. Did you never hear of a girl in her teens worshipping a teacher? It’s common form. Did you never hear of another teacher being vicious about it? That’s just as common.” “Do you mean the matron was jealous of them both?” Reggie shrugged. “It hits you in the eye.” “Good Gad!” said Lomas. “Do you suspect the matron?” “I suspect the devil,” said Reggie gravely. “Lomas, my child, whoever did that murder cut the woman’s throat and then sat down in her easy chair and watched her die. I call that devilish.” And he told of the blood-stains and the turned cushions. “Good Gad,” said Lomas once more, “there’s some hate in that.” “Not a nice murder. Also it stopped the children’s party.” “You harp on that.” Lomas looked at him curiously. “Are you thinking of the visitors?” “I wonder,” Reggie murmured. “I wonder.” “Here’s the list,” Lomas said, and Reggie came slowly to look. “Sir George and Lady Bean, Lady Chantry, Mrs. Carroway,”--he ran his pencil down--“all well-known, blameless busybodies, full of good works. Nothing doing.” “Crab Warnham,” said Reggie. “Oh, Warnham: his wife took him, I suppose. She’s a saint, and he eats out of her hand, they say. Well, he was a loose fish, of course, but murder! I don’t see Warnham at that.” “He has an eye for a woman.” “Still? I dare say. But good Gad, he can’t have known this lady doctor. Was she pretty?” Reggie nodded. “Well, we might look for a link between them. Not likely, is it?” “We’re catching at straws,” said Reggie sombrely. Lomas pushed the papers away. “Confound it, it’s another case without evidence. I suppose it can’t be suicide like that Bigod affair?”