“And you think this person whom you barely mentioned, so mindful of his old grudge that he sought out your domicile, and, with the intention of murder, climbed the trellis leading to your room and turned his pistol upon the shadowy figure which was all he could see in the semi-obscurity of a much lowered gas-jet?”

“A man in the dark does not need a bright light to see his enemy when he is intent upon revenge.”

Miss Strange altered her tone.

“And your husband?  You must acknowledge that he shot off his pistol whether the other did or not.”

“It was in self-defence.  He would shoot to save his own life—­or the baby’s.”

“Then he must have heard or seen—­”

“A man at the window.”

“And would have shot there?”

“Or tried to.”

“Tried to?”

“Yes; the other shot first—­oh, I’ve thought it all out—­causing my husband’s bullet to go wild.  It was his which broke the mirror.”

Violet’s eyes, bright as stars, suddenly narrowed.

“And what happened then?” she asked.  “Why cannot they find the bullet?”

“Because it went out of the window;—­glanced off and went out of the window.”

Mrs. Hammond’s tone was triumphant; her look spirited and intense.

Violet eyed her compassionately.

“Would a bullet glancing off from a mirror, however hung, be apt to reach a window so far on the opposite side?”

“I don’t know; I only know that it did,” was the contradictory, almost absurd, reply.

“What was the cause of the quarrel you speak of between your husband and yourself?  You see, I must know the exact truth and all the truth to be of any assistance to you.”

“It was—­it was about the care I gave, or didn’t give, the baby.  I feel awfully to have to say it, but George did not think I did my full duty by the child.  He said there was no need of its crying so; that if I gave it the proper attention it would not keep the neighbours and himself awake half the night.  And I—­I got angry and insisted that I did the best I could; that the child was naturally fretful and that if he wasn’t satisfied with my way of looking after it, he might try his.  All of which was very wrong and unreasonable on my part, as witness the awful punishment which followed.”

“And what made you get up and leave him?”

“The growl he gave me in reply.  When I heard that, I bounded out of bed and said I was going to the spare room to sleep; and if the baby cried he might just try what he could do himself to stop it.”

“And he answered?”

“This, just this—­I shall never forget his words as long as I live—­’If you go, you need not expect me to let you in again no matter what happens.’”

“He said that?”

“And locked the door after me.  You see I could not tell all that.”

“It might have been better if you had.  It was such a natural quarrel and so unprovocative of actual tragedy.”