‘I was trying to stop the flow with this, Professor,’ said Weeds, the butler, indicating a blood-covered towel he had just removed from the bed, ‘when Jones struck at me and I dropped it.’
‘And I’m sorry I missed!’ angrily exclaimed Jones, the colored chauffeur.
‘Never mind that,’ said Inspector Kelley.
‘Did you find her, Weeds?’ asked Professor Fordney.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘She’s a good-looking mulatto,’ remarked Kelley, looking at the maid lying on the floor at the side of the bed. Her right hand outstretched, the wrist deeply cut, rested in a pool of blood on the polished floor. ‘Must have slipped off the bed.’
‘I don’t think so. The spread hasn’t a wrinkle in it,’ said Fordney, noting the immaculate coverlet of pink lace, the edge caught under the girl’s body.
‘She was almost gone when I found her,’ offered Weeds, ‘and she died before I could get a doctor.’
‘Is this yours, Jones?’ inquired Fordney, picking up a sharp knife hidden by the girl’s dress.
‘Yes. She wanted it to cut the stems of the flowers I had brought up.’
‘I didn’t see that knife when I tried to help her,’ said Weeds.
‘Course you didn’t! You put it there!’ shouted Jones angrily.
‘How do you know? You weren’t here. And what’s more, I heard you threaten her last night. You don’t see any flowers here, do you, Inspector?’ quietly asked Weeds.
‘You’re right,’ said Kelley. After whispering to Fordney, he continued, ‘Come on, you’re under arrest. And you, we’ll question you later!’
