She said: "I'll clear away and wash up."
Philip Lombard said: "We'll bring the stuff out to the pantry for you."
"Thanks."
Emily Brent, rising to her feet; sat down again. She said: "Oh, dear."
The judge said: "Anything the matter, Miss Brent?"
Emily said apologetically: "I'm sorry. I'd like to help Miss Claythorne, but I don't know how it is.
I feel just a little giddy."
"Giddy, eh?" Dr. Armstrong came towards her.
"Quite natural.
Delayed shock.
I can give you something to -"
"No!" The word burst from her lips like an exploding shell.
It took every one aback.
Dr. Armstrong flushed a deep red.
There was no mistaking the fear and suspicion in her face.
He said stiffly: "Just as you please, Miss Brent."
She said: "I don't wish to take anything - anything at all.
I will just sit here quietly till the giddiness passes off."
They finished clearing away the breakfast things. Blore said:
"I'm a domestic sort of man. I'll give you a hand, Miss Claythorne."
Vera said: "Thank you."
Emily Brent was left alone sitting in the dining-room.
For a while she heard a faint murmur of voices from the pantry.
The giddiness was passing.
She felt drowsy now, as though she could easily go to sleep.
There was a buzzing in her ears - or was it a real buzzing in the room?
She thought:
"It's like a bee - a bumblebee."
Presently she saw the bee. It was crawling up the window-pane.
Vera Claythorne had talked about bees this morning.
Bees and honey... She liked honey.
Honey in the comb, and strain it yourself through a muslin bag. Drip, drip, drip...
There was somebody in the room... somebody all wet and dripping... Beatrice Taylor came from the river...
She had only to turn her head and she would see her.
But she couldn't turn her head...
If she were to call out...
But she couldn't call out...
There was no one else in the house. She was all alone... She heard footsteps - soft dragging footsteps coming up behind her. The stumbling footsteps of the drowned girl... There was a wet dank smell in her nostrils... On the window-pane the bee was buzzing - buzzing...
And then she felt the prick.
The bee sting on the side of her neck...
II In the drawing-room they were waiting for Emily Brent.
Vera Claythorne said: "Shall I go and fetch her?"
Blore said quickly: "Just a minute."
Vera sat down again.
Every one looked inquiringly at Blore.
He said: "Look here, everybody, my opinion's this: we needn't look farther for the author of these deaths than the dining-room at this minute.
I'd take my oath that woman's the one we're after!"
Armstrong said: "And the motive?"
"Religious mania.
What do you say, doctor?"