e first two or three pages scrawled by
Susan before her hand had fully responded to Doctor Askew's control;
other weakly fluttering, loose-ended threads! My respect for the great
narrative writers is increasing enormously, as I bungle onward. "Order
is heaven's first law," and I wish to heaven it might also more
instinctively be mine!

Just after the coroner's departure Maltby left us, but before he left I
insisted upon a brief talk with him in Lucette's presence. I was in no
mood for tact.

"Maltby," I said, "I can't stop now for anything but the plain statement
that you've been a bad friend--to Susan and me. As for you, Lucette,
it's perfectly clear now that Susan believes you responsible for
spreading a slanderous lie about her. Between you, directly or
indirectly, you've managed to get it believed down here that Susan has
been my mistress and was forced to leave New Haven because the scandal
had grown notorious. That's why Susan came here, determined to see you,
Lucette; that's why Gertrude received her. Gertrude was never
underhanded, never a sneak. My guess is, that she suspected you of
slandering Susan, but wasn't sure; and then Susan's unexpected call on
you----"

Lucette flared out at this, interrupting me. "I'm not particularly
interested in your guesswork, Ambrose Hunt! We've had a good deal of it,
already. Besides, I've a raging headache, and I'm too utterly heartsick
even to resent your insults. But I'll say this: I've very strong reasons
for thinking that what you call a lying slander is a fact. Mr. Phar can
tell you why--if he cares to."

With that, she walked out of the room, and I did not see her again until
we met in New Haven at Gertrude's funeral, on which occasion, with
nicely calculated publicity, she was pleased to cut me dead.

When she had gone I turned on Maltby.

"Well?" I demanded.

Maltby, I saw, was something more than ill-at-ease.

"Now see here, Boz," he began, "can't we talk this over without
quarreling? It's so stupid, I mean--between men of the world." I waited,
without responding. "I'll be frank with you," he mumbled at me. "Fact
is, old man, that night--the night Phil Farmer said Susan wanted to see
you--was waiting for you in your study--remember? You promised to rejoin
me shortly and talk things out.... But you didn't come back. Naturally,
I've always supposed since then----"

"You have a scoundrelly imagination!" I exclaimed.

His face, green-pale from loss of sleep,