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Updated: May 3, 2025
The conviction with which Lady Splay announced as a fact the opinion of the small conclave about the table quite deceived her. "So you know about the key?" she said sullenly. And about the table ran a little quiver of relief. With that question, Jenny Prask had delivered herself into their hands. "Yes." Jenny stood with a mutinous face and silent lips.
"I am not to be frightened, my lady," said Jenny Prask, with a spot of bright colour showing suddenly in her cheeks. "I am not trying to frighten you," Millie Splay returned. "But some unexpected news has reached us which, if you persist, will place you in an awkward position." Jenny Prask smiled. She turned again to the door. "Is that all, my lady?" "You had better hear what the news is."
"There's Joan," said Millie Splay. "Jenny Prask hates her. She means to drag her into some scandal." "If she can," said Martin. He went out into the hall and returned with the key of Stella Croyle's room. He held it up before them all. "This key was found on the lawn outside the library window this morning by Luttrell.
There lay the point of trouble. To it, they came ceaselessly back, revolving in the circle of their vain argument. Joan had something to conceal, and Jenny Prask was determined that she should disclose it, and Jenny Prask held the means by which to force her. "But that's just what I am driving at," continued Martin. "We can't afford to be gentle here.
At the door she stopped to add, "Now that it's over, I don't mind telling you that I admire Jenny Prask. Out-and-out loyalty like hers is not so common that we can think lightly of it." Martin Hillyard turned to Sir Chichester. "And now, if you will allow me, I will open my box of cigarettes." Harry Luttrell went back to his depot the next morning, without seeing Joan again.
Sir Chichester had framed no interrogatory in a sequence; whereas Jenny's answers were pat, as though, sitting by the bed whereon her dead mistress lay, she had thought out the questions which might be asked of her and got her answers ready. Sir Chichester began to get flurried. At every conjecture which he expressed, Jenny Prask slammed a door in his face.
There are only two women to choose from, Mrs. Croyle and Jenny Prask, her maid. But since Mrs. Croyle never took drugs, and had no troubles or thoughts of suicide and was quite gay, it follows that Jenny Prask " At this point Jenny interrupted in a voice in which fear was now very distinctly audible. "Why, you can't mean Oh, my lady, you are telling me that oh!"
Goodness me, what next, I wonder?" "Just listen how your story works out, Jenny," and Millie Splay set it out succinctly step by step. "Mrs. Croyle never took chloroform as a drug. Mrs. Croyle had no troubles. Mrs. Croyle was quite gay this week. Yet she was found dead with a glass of chloroform arranged between her pillows, so that the fumes must kill her and Jenny Prask was her maid.
If your mistress never took drugs, if she did not place the glass of chloroform in the particular position which would ensure her death, then, since you, her maid, were alone in this part of the house with her and were the last person to see her alive " "No, sir," Jenny Prask interrupted. Sir Chichester stared.
She looked eagerly at the reflection of Jenny Prask. "Mr. Escobar is staying in an hotel at Midhurst?" "Yes, madam." "And Miss Whitworth wrote to him there this afternoon?" "It's gospel truth, madam. May it be my last dying word, if it isn't!" said Jenny Prask. The blood mounted into Stella Croyle's face.
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