Holmes had divined, with, in addition, a long and obstinate chin.

What with her natural blindness, and what with the change from

dark to light, she stood as one dazed, blinking about her to see

where and who we were. And yet, in spite of all these disadvantages,

there was a certain nobility in the woman's bearing, a gallantry

in the defiant chin and in the upraised head, which compelled

something of respect and admiration. Stanley Hopkins had laid

his hand upon her arm and claimed her as his prisoner, but she

waved him aside gently, and yet with an overmastering dignity

which compelled obedience. The old man lay back in his chair,

with a twitching face, and stared at her with brooding eyes.

"Yes, sir, I am your prisoner," she said. "From where I stood

I could hear everything, and I know that you have learned the

truth. I confess it all. It was I who killed the young man.

But you are right, you who say it was an accident. I did not

even know that it was a knife which I held in my hand, for in my

despair I snatched anything from the table and struck at him to

make him let me go. It is the truth that I tell."

26.07.2007