"Oh, they are amusing and interesting, and send one to sleep when one can't in spite of drops and morphia!" babbled Mrs. Ward in her childish manner. "And I have often thought how nice it would be if one could really try and find out who killed a person. Now in this case, Mr. Train, I am sure you heard something or saw something----" "Upon my word I neither saw nor heard," protested Leonard. "I was in bed all the time." "Didn't you hear a scream?" "No." "Then you must have heard the fall of the body, or the shutting of the door as the--ah!" Mrs. Ward saw from the expression of Leonard's face that she had touched upon something. "You did hear----" "No! no!" he stammered, wondering how he was to get out of confessing about the opening of the front door without appearing rude. "Nonsense. Confess! Confess, you silly man!" But Leonard was too loyal. To lead her away from the point he asked a question. "Mrs. Ward, that yellow holly?" "Yes. What about it?" She leaned forward eagerly. "Did you give a sprig of it to any one else?" "No. I only gave a bit to my daughter, and she----" "She gave it to Brendon. Yes, I know. But did Miss Ward give any of it to a third person?" "Certainly not. To do so she would have had to get it from me. But beyond the sprig that was given, and which Mr. Brendon had, no holly went out of this house." "It is very rare, is it not?" "I believe so. I dare say there wasn't another bunch in London on that particular night. Of course there might have been, still--but why do you ask all this?" "Well," said Leonard, "it seems to me that the yellow holly has something to do with the crime." Mrs. Ward drew a long breath but said no word. He was speaking half to himself, and she did not wish to interrupt his train of thought. But she listened with all her ears. Leonard continued: "I found a berry in the room where she was killed. Yes. They took us in to see the body, and a horrid sight it was. I turned my eyes to the floor, and there I saw--just by the table--a kind of amber bead. I dropped my handkerchief so that Quex might not suspect, and I picked it up. When in my own room I examined it. It was one of the yellow holly berries." Mrs. Ward threw herself back with a kind of unholy triumph. "Do you know what you are saying, Mr. Train?" she said in a half whisper. "You are accusing Mr. Brendon----" "No! no!" Train started to his feet. Mrs. Ward pulled him down again and pointed with her fan toward the boudoir. "Hush! He might come out," she whispered. "But can't you see? Brendon wore the sprig in his coat on that night. He must have been in the room and have dropped the berry. What was he doing there if it was not to----" "No," said Train, hoarsely. "I half thought of that myself, but it is quite impossible, I tell you. He could not have got out of his room unless he had come to me." "How do you mean?"