My mistress was unwilling to yield.  For the next five minutes, at least, there was a warm discussion between the two.  In the end Mrs. Fairbank was obliged to give way—­for the time.  “In half an hour,” she said, “Francis will either be sound asleep, or awake again.  In half an hour I shall come back.”  She took the doctor’s arm.  They returned together to the house.

Left by myself, with half an hour before me, I resolved to take the Englishwoman back to the village—­then, returning to the stables, to remove the gag and the bindings from Francis, and to let him screech to his heart’s content.  What would his alarming the whole establishment matter to me after I had got rid of the compromising presence of my guest?

Returning to the yard I heard a sound like the creaking of an open door on its hinges.  The gate of the north entrance I had just closed with my own hand.  I went round to the west entrance, at the back of the stables.  It opened on a field crossed by two footpaths in Mr. Fairbank’s grounds.  The nearest footpath led to the village.  The other led to the highroad and the river.

Arriving at the west entrance I found the door open—­swinging to and fro slowly in the fresh morning breeze.  I had myself locked and bolted that door after admitting my fair friend at eleven o’clock.  A vague dread of something wrong stole its way into my mind.  I hurried back to the stables.

I looked into my own room.  It was empty.  I went to the harness room.  Not a sign of the woman was there.  I returned to my room, and approached the door of the Englishman’s bedchamber.  Was it possible that she had remained there during my absence?  An unaccountable reluctance to open the door made me hesitate, with my hand on the lock.  I listened.  There was not a sound inside.  I called softly.  There was no answer.  I drew back a step, still hesitating.  I noticed something dark moving slowly in the crevice between the bottom of the door and the boarded floor.  Snatching up the candle from the table, I held it low, and looked.  The dark, slowly moving object was a stream of blood!

That horrid sight roused me.  I opened the door.  The Englishman lay on his bed—­alone in the room.  He was stabbed in two places—­in the throat and in the heart.  The weapon was left in the second wound.  It was a knife of English manufacture, with a handle of buckhorn as good as new.

I instantly gave the alarm.  Witnesses can speak to what followed.  It is monstrous to suppose that I am guilty of the murder.  I admit that I am capable of committing follies:  but I shrink from the bare idea of a crime.  Besides, I had no motive for killing the man.  The woman murdered him in my absence.  The woman escaped by the west entrance while I was talking to my mistress.  I have no more to say.  I swear to you what I have here written is a true statement of all that happened on the morning of the first of March.