eclared Smethurst
had committed. To effectually get rid of a dangerous blackmailer was the
generally accepted theory. Well! did it ever strike you how paltry that
motive really was?"

Miss Polly had to confess, however, that it had never struck her in that
light.

"Surely a man who had succeeded in building up an immense fortune by his
own individual efforts, was not the sort of fool to believe that he had
anything to fear from a man like Kershaw. He must have _known_ that
Kershaw held no damning proofs against him--not enough to hang him,
anyway. Have you ever seen Smethurst?" he added, as he once more fumbled
in his pocket-book.

Polly replied that she had seen Smethurst's picture in the illustrated
papers at the time. Then he added, placing a small photograph before
her:

"What strikes you most about the face?"

"Well, I think its strange, astonished expression, due to the total
absence of eyebrows, and the funny foreign cut of the hair."

"So close that it almost looks as if it had been shaved. Exactly. That
is what struck me most when I elbowed my way into the court that morning
and first caught sight of the millionaire in the dock. He was a tall,
soldierly-looking man, upright in stature, his face very bronzed and
tanned. He wore neither moustache nor beard, his hair was cropped quite
close to his head, like a Frenchman's; but, of course, what was so very
remarkable about him was that total absence of eyebrows and even
eyelashes, which gave the face such a peculiar appearance--as you say, a
perpetually astonished look.

"He seemed, however, wonderfully calm; he had been accommodated with a
chair in the dock--being a millionaire--and chatted pleasantly with his
lawyer, Sir Arthur Inglewood, in the intervals between the calling of
the several witnesses for the prosecution; whilst during the examination
of these witnesses he sat quite placidly, with his head shaded by his
hand.

"Mueller and Mrs. Kershaw repeated the story which they had already told
to the police. I think you said that you were not able, owing to
pressure of work, to go to the court that day, and hear the case, so
perhaps you have no recollection of Mrs. Kershaw. No? Ah, well! Here is
a snapshot I managed to get of her once. That is her. Exactly as she
stood in the box--over-dressed--in elaborate crape, with a bonnet which
once had contained pink roses, and to which a remnant of pink petals
still clung obtrusively amidst the deep black.