A light flashed upon me.

“She meant to sail,” I said slowly.

“Then why didn’t she?”

“ Because she was dead. Suzanne, Nadina was the woman murdered at Marlow!”

My mind went back to the bare room in the empty house, and there swept over me again that indefinable sensation of menace and evil. With it came the memory of the falling pencil and the discovery of the roll of films. A roll of films⁠—that struck a more recent note. Where had I heard of a roll of films? And why did I connect that thought with Mrs. Blair?

Suddenly I flew at her and almost shook her in my excitement.