ery of this
crime. I found only about a dozen rather low steps; anyone standing on
the top must have heard every word Charles Lavender uttered the moment
he raised his voice."

"Even then--"

"Very well, you grant that," he said excitedly. "Then there was the
great, the all-important point which, oddly enough, the prosecution
never for a moment took into consideration. When Chipps, the footman,
first told Lavender that Lord Arthur could not see him the bookmaker was
terribly put out; Chipps then goes to speak to his master; a few minutes
elapse, and when the footman once again tells Lavender that his lordship
won't see him, the latter says 'Very well,' and seems to treat the
matter with complete indifference.

"Obviously, therefore, something must have happened in between to alter
the bookmaker's frame of mind. Well! What had happened? Think over all
the evidence, and you will see that one thing only had occurred in the
interval, namely, Lady Arthur's advent into the room.

"In order to go into the smoking-room she must have crossed the hall;
she must have seen Lavender. In that brief interval she must have
realized that the man was persistent, and therefore a living danger to
her husband. Remember, women have done strange things; they are a far
greater puzzle to the student of human nature than the sterner, less
complex sex has ever been. As I argued before--as the police should have
argued all along--why did Lord Arthur deliberately accuse an innocent
man of murder if not to shield the guilty one?

"Remember, Lady Arthur may have been discovered; the man, George
Higgins, may have caught sight of her before she had time to make good
her retreat. His attention, as well us that of the constables, had to be
diverted. Lord Arthur acted on the blind impulse of saving his wife at
any cost."

"She may have been met by Colonel McIntosh," argued Polly.

"Perhaps she was," he said. "Who knows? The gallant colonel had to
swear to his friend's innocence. He could do that in all
conscience--after that his duty was accomplished. No innocent man was
suffering for the guilty. The knife which had belonged to Lord Arthur
would always save George Higgins. For a time it had pointed to the
husband; fortunately never to the wife. Poor thing, she died probably of
a broken heart, but women when they love, think only of one object on
earth--the one who is beloved.

"To me the whole thing was clear from the very first. When I read the