but he was not
looking at her. She turned, and went slowly towards the door, her head
bowed. She seemed to be shrunken and small. All her vitality had gone.
She moved like an old woman, weakly.

The door opened before she reached it. Two men stood in the passage. She
started back. One of them came a few paces into the room, looking at the
man in the chair.

"Mr. James Layton?"

He rose unsteadily.

"Yes," he said, "I am James Layton. What do you want?"

"We are police officers, investigating the murder of Miss Christine
Manderson."

The girl uttered a cry, and sprang between them.

"What do you want with him?" she demanded fiercely. "He knows nothing
about it. How should he? What is it to do with him?"

The men looked at her with quick interest. But Layton silenced her with
an imperative gesture.

"I am at your service," he said quietly. "What can I do for you?"

"We are instructed to ask you to be kind enough to return with us to
Scotland Yard to answer a few questions that may assist the
investigation of the crime."

"Certainly," Layton returned, without hesitation.

His face was perfectly calm. He showed no fear or agitation.

"We have a taxi waiting," the man said. He spoke to Layton--but he was
looking at the girl.

"I will come with you at once," Layton replied.

He took up his hat and stick. The girl leant against the wall panting, a
hand pressed to her heart.

"Jim," she gasped faintly. "Jim...."

He turned, with the first sign of kindness he had yet shown to her.

"Don't be frightened," he said gently. "I shall be back in an hour or
so."

She clutched him desperately.

"You sha'n't go!" she cried wildly. "You sha'n't go!"

He put her aside firmly.

"Why shouldn't I go? There is nothing to be afraid of. I must help if I
can."

The door closed behind them. The girl moved from the wall, and staggered
to the table, leaning on it heavily. She was ashen. Her lips were gray.
She heard them leave the house--heard the car start, and listened until
the sound of it died away in the length of the street. Her strength
failed. She sank to her knees. A moan of agony escaped her.

"For nothing...." she whispered. "Oh, God ... for nothing...."

She heard a quiet tap at the door, but could not answer. She saw the
door open slowly. An enormous figure stood on the threshold.

She struggled to her feet.

"What do you want?" she murmured fearfully. "Have you come ... for me?"

The figure squeez