"Yes."

"Did Miss Manderson show any particular fear of the threat?"

"She was very much upset, and fainted when she came into the room. I
should have sent for the police at once, but she begged me not to, and
insisted that he didn't mean what he said. I wish to God I hadn't
listened."

"So there was no doubt that she knew him?"

"No. She certainly knew him."

"Afterwards, you say, he was seen in the garden when you were all out
after dinner?" the inspector continued.

"Yes."

"Who saw him?"

"Mr. Bolsover, the theatrical manager, found him sneaking about the
house, and chased him out in the direction of the crime."

"Did any one see him, besides Mr. Bolsover?"

"Apparently not. He says he called to me--but I had gone into the house
to fill my cigarette-case, and did not hear him."

"He escaped from Mr. Bolsover, and was not seen again?"

"Yes."

"Was there any one else," the inspector asked slowly, "who might, for
any reason, have entertained unfriendly feelings towards Miss
Manderson?"

Copplestone's glance sharpened a little under the question.

"I suppose there was," he admitted, with some reluctance.

"Who was it?"

Copplestone paused, frowning.

"Please do not hesitate," the inspector pressed firmly. "We must know
everything."

"Perhaps," the tired voice confessed, "it wasn't altogether playing the
game to announce my engagement so unexpectedly to--to----"

"Well?" the inspector insisted--"to whom?"

"To Phyllis Astley-Rolfe."

There was silence for a moment. The inspector waited quietly. With an
effort, Copplestone continued.

"I am afraid it was rather cruel. She'd annoyed me lately, and I put up
some decorations, and announced the news in a dramatic way ... to mock
her." He broke off, staring at the remains of the decorations on the
floor. "But I tore them down. I shall never decorate again...."

The inspector watched him closely. He seemed to be on the verge of
sleep.

"Then Mrs. Astley-Rolfe had reason to be jealous of Miss Manderson?" the
inspector demanded briskly.

"I suppose ... she had."

"Good reason?"

"Possibly."

"Had you given her definite cause to believe that you intended to ask
her to marry you?"

"Perhaps so. At any rate ... I had not given her definite cause to
believe that I didn't."

His voice sank to a whisper. He leant back limply in his chair.

"There is only one more question I need trouble you with at present,"
the inspector said. "Who wa