room. Dr. Fortune," she said with dignity. "I am told she's come to and been crying."
"Well, that's natural, anyway," said Reggie.
"Natural, indeed!" Mrs. Betts tossed her head.
"And what did you do next, Mrs. Betts?"
"I had nothing touched, sir. I locked up the room. And I telephoned to you and the police."
"I'm sure you behaved admirably, Mrs. Betts," Reggie murmured.
Mrs. Betts was appeased. "I could hardly bear it, sir. Such a sweet, good mistress as she was. A perfect lady with all her little ways, as you know, sir. And that Miss Weston! So soft and quiet as she seemed. I don't mind saying, sir, I felt as if I was stone. Oh!" She shuddered and shook. "Vicious, I call it."
Reggie was looking round the room. "I suppose it is murder, sir?" said Mrs. Betts in a tone that suggested she would like to have the hanging of Miss Weston.
"I suppose it is," Reggie said. He crossed to the chair in which Miss Weston had been found sleeping and picked up from the floor close by a pair of scissors and a pointed bodkin with an ivory handle. Both were clotted with blood. Ugly things.
"Ah!" Mrs. Betts said. "That's what did it. Put 'em down, sir. I left them there by her chair for the police to see."
"You think of everything, Mrs. Betts," said Reg-
