"Tell me, Jean. What does all this mean?" asked Bracondale, very quietly, considering the circumstances.
"Ah! no dear!" she cried. "Don't ask me--don't ask me! I--I killed him!"
"Killed him!" echoed her husband blankly. "What do you mean? You are not yourself, dearest."
"Will you leave us alone?" Bracondale said, turning to them just as Miss Oliver returned with the bottle of smelling-salts.
They all left the room, including the governess, husband and wife being left with the dead man.
"Tell me, darling, what has occurred?" asked Bracondale in a soft, sympathetic voice, endeavouring to calm her.
For a long time she refused to answer. She could not bring herself to speak a lie to him, not even a white lie! The night had been so full of horror and tragedy that she was beside herself. She wondered whether it were not, after all, a horrible dream.
Yet no! It was true. Ralph Ansell was dead. He had carried his secret with him to the grave, and she was free--free! She was really Lady Bracondale, the mother of Bracondale's child!
She had been at the point of confessing. But no. Bracondale must know nothing.
"You killed this man, Jean?" her husband was saying in a low, intense voice. "Why?"
"Why, your neck is all black and blue!" Bracondale said, noticing it for the first time.
"He tried to strangle me, then he intended to shoot me," she said hysterically. "We struggled--and--and it--it went off!"
"How can I tell?" she asked frantically. "I came in here unexpectedly, and saw him with my pearls in his hand. I--I demanded them back, but he refused. I threatened to shout and alarm the servants, but he sprang upon me and tried to strangle me!"
Bracondale, for the first time, noticed that the morocco jewel-case stood open on the table.
"He must have got them from your bedroom!" he exclaimed; and then, his quick eye catching sight of the tinder of the burnt letter in the fender of the stove, he bent, picked it up, and remarked:
"He seems to have also burnt something. I wonder what it was?"
His lordship crossed the carpet and stood looking upon the dead face.
"Who is he? Do you know, Jean?" he inquired in a serious, intense tone.
"The police will establish his identity, no doubt. I will telephone for them," he said. "But where are the pearls now?"