"The next thing I remember, was finding myself lying on the floor, and, when I tried to get up, seeing everything in the room swinging about me like the swinging boats at a fair. I don't know how long I had been unconscious, but when, at last, I managed to stand up, and clinging, faint and giddy, to the back of a chair, looked again at the motionless figure that sprawled across the writing-table, there was a great pool of blood on the polished oak of the floor beneath it, which grew slowly broader, as drop after drop dripped down to swell it With a great effort I conquered my faintness, and staggered out of the room and down the long passage.
"In the billiard-room Mr. McConachan was still practising his game. He must have been making a break, for I remember hearing him speak, as I opened the door. 'Twenty-seven,' he said aloud. My voice wouldn't come, and I stood holding on to the doorpost, while he, with his back to me, went on potting the red.
"'That you, Miss Byrne?' he said, without looking round. Then, as I didn't answer, he glanced up and saw by my face, I suppose, that something was very wrong. He came quickly to me, his cue in his hand. 'What's the matter?' he said. 'Do you feel ill?' 'Lord Ashiel is dead,' I said; 'in the library. Some one shot him. Didn't you hear?' 'Dead?' he cried; 'Uncle Douglas shot! Do you know what you're saying! I heard a shot, it is true, five minutes ago, but surely that was the keeper shooting an owl or something.'
"I shook my head. 'He is dead,' I repeated dully. He looked at me, still incredulous, and then darted forward and caught me by the arm. 'Here, sit down,' he said, and half pushed, half led me to a chair. I saw him run to the bell and tug violently at the rope. Then I believe I fainted again.
"I think that is all there is to tell you, Mr. Gimblet. You know already that the murderer got clear away, and the next morning footmarks were found outside the window which proved to have been made by Sir David Southern. I was so idiotic, when I was questioned, as to mention having spoken to him outside the gun-room door, and to repeat, incidentally, that he had said he had been cleaning his rifle. I never dreamt that anyone could be so mad as to suspect him. But they looked at the rifle, and found that it was dirty, so that it must have been discharged again since I saw him. And it appears he did not join in the search for the murderer, and was not seen until it was all over. And so they arrested him and took him away. No amount of evidence could ever make me believe for a moment that he had a hand in this dreadful thing, but oh, Mr. Gimblet, I see only too well how black it looks against him. What shall I do if you, too, now that I have told you everything, think he did it? You don't, do you?"