“Mine.  I always carry one.”

“Always?”

“Yes.”

“Then—­have you one with you now?”

“Yes.”

“When you asked the sailor Burns to let you see the axe, what did you give as a reason?”

“The truth—­curiosity.”

“Then, having seen the axe, where did you go?”

“Below.”

“Please explain the incident of the two articles Mr. Goldstein showed to the jury yesterday, the shirt and waistcoat.”

“That was very simple.  Mr. Turner had been very ill.  We took turns in caring for him.  I spilled a bowl of broth over the garments that were shown, and rubbed them out in the bathroom.  They were hung in the cabin used by Mr. Vail to dry, and I forgot them when we were packing.”

The attorney for the defense cross-examined her: 

“What color were the stains you speak of?”

“Darkish—­red-brown.”

“What sort of broth did you spill?”

“That’s childish, isn’t it?  I don’t recall.”

“You recall its color.”

“It was beef broth.”

“Mrs. Johns, on the night you visited the forward house and viewed the axe, did you visit it again?”

“The axe, or the forward house?”

“The house.”

She made one of her long pauses.  Finally:—­

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Between three and four o’clock.”

“Who went with you?”

“I went alone.”

“Why did you go beyond the line that was railed off for your safety?”

(Sharply.) “Because I wished to.  I was able to take care of myself.”

“Why did you visit the forward house?”

“I was nervous and could not sleep.  I thought no one safe while the axe was on the ship.”

“Did you see the body of Burns, the sailor, lying on the deck at that time?”

“He might have been there; I did not see him.”

“Are you saying that you went to the forward house to throw the axe overboard?”

“Yes—­if I could get in.”

“Did you know why the axe was being kept?”

“Because the murders had been committed with it.”

“Had you heard of any finger-prints on the handle?”

“No.”

“Did it occur to you that you were interfering with justice in disposing of the axe?”

“Do you mean justice or law?  They are not the same.”

“Tell us about your visit to the forward house.”

“It was between two and three.  I met no one.  I had a bunch of keys from the trunks and from four doors in the after house.  Miss Lee knew I intended to try to get rid of the axe.  I did not need my keys.  The door was open—–­wide open.  I—­I went in, and—­”

Here, for the first time, Mrs. Johns’s composure forsook her.  She turned white, and her maid passed up to her a silver smelling-salts bottle.

“What happened when you went in?”