Lady Marjorie handed the sobbing maid a handkerchief. I’m glad Emily packed a lot of handkerchiefs for this holiday, she thought. So far they have all been for hysterical servants.

“What is your name, dear?” she asked the shaking girl.

“Y-Y-Yassi,” she stuttered, dabbing her eyes with the kerchief.

“Yassi, you must get hold of yourself. Now stop your tears and tell us what happened,” Marjorie commanded. “What did you see exactly when you came in to the gentleman’s room?”

“I knocked and no one answered so I thought I could come in. I let myself in with the key. There were things all over the floor and I thought there had been a party. Then I saw him on the bed,” she began to whimper. “His eyes. They were staring up at the ceiling. Blood on his face. His neck. It was red and swollen. Oh, my lady, it was terrible!” She broke down in tears again. Porcia put her arms around the girl’s shoulder and looked at Marjorie with a quizzical face.

“Did you see him?” she asked. “It looked like he had been strangled but where did the blood come from?”

Lady Marjorie nodded. “Yes, I saw it too. He had been shot in the temple. But there isn’t much blood there… I’ve seen plenty of gunshot wounds to the head and normally it bleeds like the dickens. It’s strange…”

“Well why would anyone strangle and shoot someone?” Porcia wondered. “And did you see the mess? It looks like they were searching for something.”

“Indeed. And I wonder if they found what they were looking for.”

“They think John James did it!” Porcia exclaimed as she saw Henri accuse John. “They’re going to throw him in the slammer!”

Both women stared, appalled at the turn of events which occurred before them.

“Good Lord, and we were right outside his room last night…” Lady Marjorie whispered. “Why didn’t we knock?”

“Yeah, but what if he DID do it? Maybe it’s a good thing we left,” Porcia countered.

"Or a bad thing," Marjorie responded. "if he didn't do it."