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Updated: May 21, 2025
"As you are here, you had better come into this room again, and shut the door behind you. I have some questions I want to put to you." Thalassa followed Barrant into the room and stood by the table, the rays of the swinging-lamp throwing his brown face into sharp outline. "What do you want to know?" he asked.
"There's no keeping it out. I'm going downstairs to lock up now. You'll have your supper up here, I suppose?" "Yes. I have a lot of work to do before I go to bed." Thalassa left the room without further speech, and Robert Turold began rummaging among his papers with a hand which trembled slightly. The table was littered with parchments, old books, and some sheets of newly written foolscap.
There was one thing over which she had frequently puzzled without arriving at any interpretation of it. She thought of it now. She saw herself stealing from her father's room with the sound of his last awful words ringing through her being. Beneath, near the foot of the staircase, she could see Thalassa waiting, the glow of the tiny hall light falling on his stern listening face.
Charles eyed him across the space, affected almost to nausea by his evil glance. What a fool he had been to lose his temper! Not in that way was the truth to be reached. The man before him was not to be terrorized or intimidated. Sisily's way would have been the best. He wondered whether it was too late to attempt it. "I was hasty, Thalassa," he said.
We are both in a dangerous position, and might be arrested at any moment. What would happen then? Who would believe my story or yours? They sound improbable even to ourselves. Here, at least, is a chance of discovering the truth, for I most solemnly believe that Thalassa knows it, or guesses it. What other chance have we of finding out the hideous mystery of that night? I must go, Sisily.
I will take him by surprise later on, when he is off his guard, and if he is keeping anything back I may be able to get it out of him. But we must not be too quick in drawing the conclusion that those marks were made by him." "What makes you say so?" asked Inspector Dawfield. "Thalassa has a long bony hand, with fingers thickened by rough work.
"Joseph" such was her husband's name "you had better go and see if the car is ready, and I will go for Sisily. Is she upstairs in her room, Robert?" "I believe so," said Robert Turold, bending abstractedly over his papers. "But you had better ask Thalassa. He'll tell you. Thalassa will know." Mrs. Pendleton looked angrily at him, but was wise enough to forbear from further speech.
Thalassa crouched like a preposterous hunched-up doll on the seat where her husband had flung her, looking up at him with stupid eyes, but not speaking. He approached her again. "Speak, woman, speak, or I'll strangle you." She backed away, whimpering with fear. "No, no, Jasper, leave me alone." "Has Miss Sisily been here?"
"You'll get neither rhyme nor reason out of her," said Thalassa, as their glances met. "I'll try once more," murmured Barrant, almost to himself. He turned to her again, but this time he did not lay his hand on her arm. "Mrs. Thalassa" he spoke more gently "will you try and understand me?" "Red on black ... black on red." Her hands moved restlessly.
With a sharp exclamation he dropped her wrist and tore open the front of her dress, placing his hand on her heart. With his other hand he took up his stethoscope from the table. "Bring that lamp closer quick!" he cried. Thalassa lifted the lamp from the table and stood beside him. The yellow glow of the lamp enveloped the livid bluish features of Sisily and the stooping form with the stethoscope.
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