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Updated: July 2, 2025


She was Thalassa's wife, but the relationship was so completely ignored by Thalassa that other people were apt to forget its existence.

He was well aware that he had not yet gathered sufficient evidence to satisfy the law that she had murdered her father, but his action was justified by her flight and the presumption of her secret visit to her father's house when she was supposed to be in bed and asleep at the hotel. These things fulfilled, Barrant then applied his mind to the question of Thalassa's complicity.

Thalassa's victory had ended with bringing him down, and she soon had cause to regret her temerity in marrying him. Thalassa repaid the indignity of capture by a course of treatment which had long since subdued his wife to a state of perpetual fear of him a fear which deepened into speechless shaking horror when he stormed out at her in one of his black rages.

Thalassa's eyes strayed mournfully over the rows, then she gathered up the cards and shuffled them again. "Do you know any other games of patience?" Barrant asked. She shook her head. "Then this is the game you were playing on that night?" "What night?" she whispered. "The night Mr. Turold was killed." "I don't want to think of that it frightens me." She remembered, then!

Thalassa, retracting his previous statement that he was not out of Flint House that night, for the first time tells of some mysterious avenger who, he thinks, killed Robert Turold while he was out of the house with Miss Turold. Have I got it right?" "Yes," said Charles, "you have it right." "The story rests on Thalassa's bare statement, and Thalassa is a facile liar." Barrant's tone was scornful.

In his intense preoccupation with Thalassa's story he had forgotten that his own impulsive actions on that night must be construed as proof of his own guilt or bear too literal interpretation of having been done to shield Sisily. He saw that he was in a position of extraordinary difficulty. "I was hardly conscious of what I was doing, at the time," he said. "You took the key away with you?"

Thalassa looked questioningly at Ravenshaw, who nodded in the direction of the door. "Open it," he said. Thalassa hesitated. His eyes sought the couch. "Yes, in here," said Ravenshaw understandingly. "We shall want witnesses." Thalassa went to the door and opened it. A man's voice in the darkness asked for Dr. Ravenshaw, and the owner of the voice stepped quickly inside at Thalassa's invitation.

Sometimes Sisily was under the impression that her father for some reason or other, feared Thalassa. She could recall a chance collision, witnessed unseen, through a half-open door. There had been loud voices, and she had seen a fiery threatening eye Thalassa's and her; father's moody averted face.

Then the gush of light from the open door, and her shape stealing forth into the darkness, followed by another Thalassa's. And then, the final phase the desolate house, the wind rushing noisily along dark passages, the dead form of Robert Turold in the room upstairs. What did these things mean, and what was to be the end?

Then, like a half-awakened sleeper released from the horror of a nightmare, she sank back in her previous listless attitude, and fell to muttering again. As Barrant watched her, Thalassa watched them both with an anxiety which would have aroused Barrant's suspicions if he had seen it. But Thalassa's face was again closely guarded when he did look up.

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