"Mr. Hewitt, if you knew him you wouldn't ask. He would never injure my
poor father--he went out after him purely out of kindness, because I was
uneasy. He would never hurt him, Mr. Hewitt, never, never! I can't say
it strongly enough--he never would! Oh! my poor father, and now----"

"Steady again!" cried Hewitt, more sharply still. I could see that he
feared the hysterical breakdown that might come at any moment after the
lengthened suspense Miss Peytral had suffered. "Listen, now--you mustn't
frighten yourself too much. If Mr. Bowmore is innocent--and you say you
are so certain of it--then I've no doubt of finding a way to prove it if
only you'll make your best effort to help me, and keep your wits about
you. As far as I can see at present there's nothing against him that we
need be afraid of if we tackle it properly, and, of course, the police
make arrests of this sort by way of precaution in a case like this, on
the merest hint. Come now, you say you were uneasy when your father went
out after dinner on Thursday night. Why?"

"I don't know, quite, Mr. Hewitt. It was my mother that was uneasy,
really, about something she never explained to me. My father had taken
to going out in the evening after dinner, just in the way he did on
Thursday night. I don't know why, but I think it had something to do
with my mother's anxiety."

"Did he dress for dinner?"

"No, not lately. He used to dress always, but he has dropped it of
late."

Hewitt paused for a moment, thoughtfully. Then he said, "Mrs. Peytral is
an invalid, I know, and no doubt none the better for her anxiety. But if
it could be managed I should like to ask her a few questions. What do
you think?"

But this Miss Peytral was altogether against. Her mother was suffering
from spinal complaint, it appeared, with very serious nervous
complications, and there was no answering for the result of the smallest
excitement. She never saw strangers, and, if it could possibly be
avoided, it must be avoided now.

"Very well, Miss Peytral, I will first go and look at some things I must
see, and I will do without your mother's help as long as I possibly can.
But now you must answer a few more questions yourself, please."

Hewitt's questions produced little more substantial information, it
seemed to me, than he had already received. Mr. Peytral had taken the
house in which we were sitting--it was called "The Lodge" simply--two
years ago. Before that the family had lived