Caldew, who was the only person in the room with the deeper knowledge to divine the drift of these questions, realized with something of a shock that Merrington, with fewer facts to guide him, had reached his absolute conclusion about the events of the last half-hour while he had wandered perplexedly in a cloud of suspicions. The mental jump had been too great for him, but Merrington had not hesitated to take it. Caldew waited eagerly for the next question. It was some time in coming, and when it did come it was not what Caldew expected. As though satisfied with the previous answers he had received, Merrington branched off on another track. "How did you spend last night?" he asked abruptly. "I do not understand you." There was the shadow of fear in the girl's dark eyes as she answered. "I will put it more plainly then. How did you occupy the time between your arrival at the moat-house and bedtime?" "I spent it with my mother in her rooms." "Were you there all the time?" It seemed to Caldew that the elder woman's attitude was that of a listener. Though she still kept her face buried in her hands, her frame slightly moved, as though she were listening to catch the reply. "Yes." The word was spoken hurriedly, almost defiantly, but the girl's eyes wavered and fell under Merrington's direct glance. "May I take it, then, that you were in your mother's room at the time Mrs. Heredith was murdered?" This time Hazel did not reply audibly, but a faint movement of her head indicated an affirmative. "What would you say if your mother admits that you left her room before the murder was committed, and that she did not see you until afterwards?" It was a clever trap, Caldew reluctantly conceded, this idea of playing off the mother and daughter against each other, but one that he would have hesitated to use. The effect was instantaneous. Before the girl could frame her frightened lips in reply, her mother lifted her head sharply. "I didn't say so! Don't answer him, Hazel, don't tell him. Oh!" Too late the wretched woman realized that she had betrayed her daughter, and she sank into a stupefied silence. "Your mother has let the cat out of the bag," said Merrington to the girl, in a bantering tone. "Come, now," he added, changing swiftly into his most truculent mood. "We may as well have the truth, first as last. You were seen last night going up the hall in the direction of the left wing just before the murder was committed. Do you admit it?" "I do." The admission was made in a low but calm tone. "Then your last answer was untrue. What were you doing in the hall at that time?" Hazel, staring straight in front of her, did not reply, but her quickly moving breast betrayed her agitation. "Did you hear me? I asked what were you doing in the hall last night." "I shall not tell you." "Did you go upstairs?" "I shall not tell you."