ith the silk was convincing. I turned from her
once again, and rejoined the shrewd men whose object it was to fasten
the guilt upon the assassin.

Presently we heard the welcome sound of cab wheels outside, and a few
minutes later young Mrs. Courtenay, wild eyed and breathless, rushed
into the hall and dashed headlong up the stairs. I, however, barred
her passage.

"Let me pass!" she cried wildly. "Short has told me he is worse and
has asked for me. Let me pass!"

"No, Mary, not so quickly. Let me tell you something," I answered
gravely, placing my hand firmly upon her arm. The police were again
re-examining the back premises below, and only Ethelwynn was present
at the top of the stairs, where I arrested her progress to the dead
man's room.

"But is there danger?" she demanded anxiously. "Tell me."

"The crisis is over," I responded ambiguously. "But is not your
absence to-night rather unusual?"

"It was entirely my own fault," she admitted. "I shall never forgive
myself for this neglect. After the theatre we had supper at the Savoy,
and I lost my last train. Dolly Henniker, of course, asked me to stay,
and I could not refuse." Then glancing from my face to that of her
sister she asked: "Why do you both look so strange? Tell me," she
shrieked. "Tell me the worst. Is he--is he _dead_?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

For a second she stood dumb, then gave vent to a long wail, and would
have fallen senseless if I had not caught her in my arms and laid her
back upon the long settee placed in an alcove on the landing. She,
like all the others, had dressed hurriedly. Her hair was dishevelled
beneath her hat, but her disordered dress was concealed by her long
ulster heavily lined with silver fox, a magnificent garment which her
doting husband had purchased through a friend at Moscow, and presented
to her as a birthday gift.

From her manner it was only too plain that she was filled with
remorse. I really pitied her, for she was a light-hearted, flighty,
little woman who loved gaiety, and, without an evil thought, had no
doubt allowed her friends to draw her into that round of amusement.
They sympathised with her--as every woman who marries an old man is
sympathised with--and they gave her what pleasures they could. Alas!
that such a clanship between women so often proves fatal to domestic
happiness. Judged from a logical point of view it was merely natural
that young Mrs. Courtenay should, after a year or two with