A king remained surrounded by small cards, like a real monarch overwhelmed by the rabble on May Day.
Mrs.Thalassa's eyes strayed mournfully over the rows, then she gathered up the cards and shuffled them again.
"Do you know any other games of patience ?" Barrant asked.
She shook her head.
"Then this is the game you were playing on that night ?" "What night ?" she whispered.
"The night Mr.Turold was killed." "I don't want to think of that--it frightens me." She remembered, then! Her face went grey, but her eyes were alert, watching his.
"Listen to me"-- he spoke very gently--"I want to help you get rid of your fear and terror, but to do so I must talk to you about that night.

Do you understand ?" The kindness in his voice seemed to reach her feeble consciousness, and she looked at him earnestly.
"Will you try and recollect ?" She seemed to search his eyes for courage, and gave a trembling nod.
"What time was it when you heard the crash upstairs?
Think well." She seemed to make an effort to remember.

"I don't know," she said at last.
"Think again.

You were playing patience--the game you have just shown me ?" Her eyes turned to the cards on the table.

"Yes," she said.
"What time did you commence--can you think ?" She shook her head.