“Then if Mrs. Jeffrey had returned.” “To both of which questions you answered—” “A plain ‘No.’” “Now tell us about the officer.” “He rang the bell almost immediately after she did. Thinking she would want to slip upstairs before I admitted any one, I waited a minute for her to go, but she did not do so, and when the officer stepped in she—” “Well!” “She shrieked.” “What! before he spoke?” “Yes, sir.” “Just at sight of him?” “Yes, sir.” “Did he wear his badge in plain view?” “Yes, on his breast.” “So that you knew him to be a police officer?” “Yes.” “And Miss Tuttle shrieked at seeing a police officer?” “Yes, and sprang forward.” “Did she say anything?” “Not then.” “What did she do?” “Waited for him to speak.” “Which he did?” “At once, and very brutally. He asked if she was Mrs. Jeffrey’s sister, and when she nodded and gasped ‘Yes,’ he blurted out that Mrs. Jeffrey was dead; that he had just come from the old house in Waverley Avenue, where she had just been found.” “And Miss Tuttle?” “Didn’t know what to say; just hid her face. She was leaning against the newel-post, so it was easy for her to do so. I remember that the man stared at her for taking it so quietly and asking no questions.” “And did she speak at all?” “Oh, yes, afterwards. Her face was wrapped in the folds of her cloak, but I heard her whisper, as if to herself: ‘No! no! That old hearth is not a lodestone. She can not have fallen there.’ And then she looked up quite wildly and cried: ‘There is something more! Something which you have not told me.’ ‘She shot herself, if that’s what you mean.’ Miss Tuttle’s arms went straight up over her head. It was awful to see her. ‘Shot herself?’ she gasped. ‘Oh, Veronica, Veronica!’ ‘With a pistol,’ he went on—I suppose he was going to say, ‘tied to her wrist,’ but he never got it out, for Miss Tuttle, at the word ‘pistol’ clapped her hands to her ears and for a moment looked quite distracted, so that he thought better of worrying her any more and only demanded to know if Mr. Jeffrey kept any such weapon. Miss Tuttle’s face grew very strange at this. ‘Mr. Jeffrey! was he there?’ she asked. The man looked surprised. ‘They are searching for Mr. Jeffrey,’ he replied. ‘Isn’t he here?’ ‘No,’ came both from her lips and mine. The man acted very impertinently. ‘You haven’t told me whether a pistol was kept here or not,’ said he. Miss Tuttle tried to compose herself, but I saw that I should have to speak if any one did, so I told him that Mr. Jeffrey did have a pistol, which he kept in one of his bureau drawers. But when the officer wanted Miss Tuttle to go up and see if it was there, she shook her head and made for the front door, saying that she must be taken directly to her sister.” “And did no one go up? Was no attempt made to see if the pistol was or was not in the drawer?”