"You will recollect, Mrs Olliffe, that we had some conversation
concerning the late Melvill Arnold. You were anxious to learn facts
connected with his death."
"Yes," she said, with a strange look upon her handsome face. "My
object, I may as well tell you, Mr Kemball, was to satisfy myself that
he died a natural death; that--well, that he was not the victim of foul
play."
"Foul play!" I gasped, staring at her. "Do you suspect that?"
She shrugged her well-shaped shoulders without replying.
"Had he any enemies--any person who would benefit by his death?" I
asked quickly.
"Yes."
"And you suspect them of--"
"I suspect nobody," she hastened to assure me. "Only his sudden and
mysterious end is extremely suspicious."
"Well, I can assure you that you need have no suspicion," I said. "I
was with him on board ship when he was suddenly taken ill, and I
remained with him nearly the whole time until the end."
"Nearly. You were absent sometimes."
"Of course. I was not with him both night and day."
"And therefore you can't say with absolute certainty that his enemies
had no access to him," she said.
"But even if they had, they can have profited nothing," I said.
"How do you know? Melvill Arnold was extremely wealthy. Where is it
all? Who knows but that he was not robbed of it in secret, and death
brought upon him in order to prevent the truth from being revealed."