d with an aspect of some severity, he asked
me what I had to say now which I had not had the opportunity of saying
before. I replied with all the passion of a forlorn hope that it was
only at this present moment I remembered a fact which might have a very
decided bearing on this case; and, detecting evidences, as I thought, of
relenting on his part, I backed up this statement by an entreaty for a
few words with him apart, as the matter I had to tell was private and
possibly too fanciful for any ear but his own.

He looked as if he apprehended some loss of valuable time, but, touched
by the involuntary gesture of appeal with which I supplemented my
request, he led me into a corner, where, with just an encouraging glance
toward Mr. Durand, who seemed struck dumb by my action, I told the
inspector of that momentary picture which I had seen reflected in what I
was now sure was some window-pane or mirror.

"It was at a time coincident, or very nearly coincident, with the
perpetration of the crime you are now investigating," I concluded.
"Within five minutes afterward came the shout which roused us all to
what had happened in the alcove. I do not know what passage I saw or
what door or even what figure; but the latter, I am sure, was that of
the guilty man. Something in the outline (and it was the outline only I
could catch) expressed an emotion incomprehensible to me at the moment,
but which, in my remembrance, impresses me as that of fear and dread. It
was not the entrance to the alcove I beheld--that would have struck me
at once--but some other opening which I might recognize if I saw it. Can
not that opening be found, and may it not give a clue to the man I saw
skulking through it with terror and remorse in his heart?"

"Was this figure, when you saw it, turned toward you or away?" the
inspector inquired with unexpected interest.

"Turned partly away. He was going from me."

"And you sat--where?"

"Shall I show you?"

The inspector bowed, then with a low word of caution turned to my uncle.

"I am going to take this young lady into the hall for a moment, at her
own request. May I ask you and Mr. Durand to await me here?"

Without pausing for reply, he threw open the door and presently we were
pacing the deserted supper-room, seeking the place where I had sat.
I found it almost by a miracle,--everything being in great disorder.
Guided by my bouquet, which I had left behind me in my escape from the
table, I laid ho