"That unknown man was
murdered--stabbed to the heart."
"Well?"
"Well," she said, scarcely above a whisper, "I have suspicions."
"Of the murdered man's identity?"
"No. Of the assassin."
I glanced at her sharply and saw the intense look in her dark, wide-open
eyes.
"You believe you know who dealt the blow?"
"I have a suspicion--that is all. Only I want you to help me, if you
will."
"Most certainly," I responded. "But if you believe you know the assassin
you probably know something of the victim?"
"Only that he looked like a foreigner."
"Then you have seen him?" I exclaimed, much surprised.
My remark caused her to hold her breath for an instant. Then she
answered, rather lamely, it seemed to me:
"I saw him when the keepers brought the body to the castle."
Now, according to the account I had heard, the police had conveyed the
dead man direct from the wood into Dumfries. Was it possible, therefore,
that she had seen Olinto before he met with his sudden end?
I feared to press her for an explanation at that moment, but,
nevertheless, the admission that she had seen him struck me as a very
peculiar fact.
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