Yet—well, who would know? No one. Who could tell her what she must know? Come now, Susie, she could hear Jim saying: let’s get down to brass tacks. How could it have been done?

The house was still quiet when at length she returned to it. She summoned the little housemaid to her own room again. “I want you to tell me again, exactly how you found Mr. Wiggenhorn.”

The girl shut her eyes and twisted her white apron.

“Well, he was there on the couch. That’s the first thing I saw, because he was all twisted—looked so queer, you know. Somehow I knew right away he was dead. I screamed and everybody—that is, Miss Wiggenhorn and cook and then the nurse—came running.”

“And he had pulled off the cover of the table—”

“Oh, yes, and everything was spilled. Glass and water and—”

“Did you straighten the room?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right away. While Miss Wiggenhorn was telephoning for the doctor.”

“What did you pick up?”

The girl’s eyes opened widely. “Why, the—empty water glass. The bottle of smelling salts—”

“Was it open? I mean had Mr. Wiggenhorn used it?”

“Oh, yes, the stopped was out and it had fallen on its side.”

“Then you gathered up the crystals of salts that had fallen out?”

“No, ma’am,” said the girl. “The bottle must have been empty. There wasn’t anything in it at all. Except a sort of mist—”

“Mist!” said Susan violently.

“Well—steam. As if it had had hot water in it—you know. Only the bottle was empty.”

“I see,” said Susan after a moment. “What did you do with it?”

“Why, I—I put it on the table. And straightened up the table and wiped up the water that had spilled from the glass—”

“Wait. There was nothing in the glass?”

“No, ma’am. It had fallen on its side too. I took it and washed it and put it back on the table.”

She waited for further questions. Finally Susan said: “Was there any unusual odor in the room?”

The girl thought and then shook her head decisively. “No, ma’am. I didn’t notice anything. Not even smelling salts—but then, the bottle was empty. But we were all excited—everybody running around—putting up windows.”

“Opening windows? Who?”

But she didn’t know exactly. “Besides,” she said, “the smell of the vinegar and spices was all over the house. Suffocating, it was.”

“It must have been. Did you replace the stopper in the smelling-salts bottle?”

She was dubious. Then remembered: “Yes. When I cleaned the room the next day. It had rolled under the couch.”

“Do you clean Mr. Durrie’s studio?” asked Susan abruptly.