The place was obviously not in the way of being used. There was a desk, and some book-cases, but it had a cold unlived-in feeling. When Martin turned from shutting the door Miss Silver was standing by the empty hearth. She spoke as he came towards her.
“Since this is a case of murder, there are things which I think you ought to know.” Her voice was so grave, her air so much that of a serious and responsible person, that he found himself regarding her with attention. He had up to now considered her merely in the light of the casual friend who happened to be visiting Adriana Ford at the time of the second tragedy. The fact that she had only been a little over twenty-four hours in the house seemed to relegate her to comparative unimportance and to detach her from any possible connection with
