“You have been Mrs. Edwards’ physician for some time, I believe?” queried Kennedy, fencing for an opening.

“Only since her marriage,” replied the doctor briefly.

“She hadn’t been feeling well for several days, had she?” ventured Kennedy again.

“No,” replied Dr. Jermyn quickly.  “I doubt whether I can add much to what you already know.  I suppose Mr. Waldon has told you about her illness.  The fact is, I suppose her maid Juanita will be able to tell you really more than I can.”

I could not help feeling that Dr. Jermyn showed a great deal of reluctance in talking.

“You have been with her several days, though, haven’t you?”

“Four days, I think.  She was complaining of feeling nervous and telegraphed me to come down here.  I came prepared to stay over night, but Mr. Edwards happened to run down that day, too, and he asked me if I wouldn’t remain longer.  My practice in the summer is such that I can easily leave it with my assistant in the city, so I agreed.  Really, that is about all I can say.  I don’t know yet what was the matter with Mrs. Edwards, aside from the nervousness which seemed to be of some time standing.”

He stood facing us, thoughtfully stroking his chin, as a very pretty and petite maid nervously entered and stood facing us in the doorway.

“Come in, Juanita,” encouraged Edwards.  “I want you to tell these gentlemen just what you told me about discovering that Madame had gone—­and anything else that you may recall now.”

“It was Juanita who discovered that Madame was gone, you know,” put in Waldon.

“How did you discover it?” prompted Craig.

“It was very hot,” replied the maid, “and often on hot nights I would come in and fan Madame since she was so wakeful.  Last night I went to the door and knocked.  There was no reply.  I called to her, ‘Madame, madame.’  Still there was no answer.  The worst I supposed was that she had fainted.  I continued to call.”

“The door was locked?” inquired Kennedy.

“Yes, sir.  My call aroused the others on the boat.  Dr. Jermyn came and he broke open the door with his shoulder.  But the room was empty.  Madame was gone.”

“How about the windows?” asked Kennedy.

“Open.  They were always open these nights.  Sometimes Madame would sit by the window when there was not much breeze.”

“I should like to see the room,” remarked Craig, with an inquiring glance at Edwards.

“Certainly,” he answered, leading the way down a corridor.

Mrs. Edwards’ room was on the starboard side, with wide windows instead of portholes.  It was furnished magnificently and there was little about it that suggested the nautical, except the view from the window.

“The bed had not been slept in,” Edwards remarked as we looked about curiously.

Kennedy walked over quickly to the wide series of windows before which was a leather-cushioned window seat almost level with the window, several feet above the level of the water.  It was by this window, evidently, that Juanita meant that Mrs. Edwards often sat.  It was a delightful position, but I could readily see that it would be comparatively easy for anyone accidentally or purposely to fall.