y have been barely six-thirty when you heard the
noise of a struggle."

"Indeed?" said I. I tried to sound sarcastic, but I was really too
astonished by her tone.

"Yes--indeed!" she replied. "That is what you will tell Inspector Bray
when next you see him. 'It may have been six-thirty,' you will tell him.
'I have thought it over and I am not certain.'"

"Even for a very charming lady," I said "I can not misrepresent the
facts in a matter so important. It was after seven--"

"I am not asking you to do a favor for a lady," she replied. "I am
asking you to do a favor for yourself. If you refuse the consequences
may be most unpleasant."

"I'm rather at a loss--" I began.

She was silent for a moment. Then she turned and I felt her looking at
me through the veil.

"Who was Archibald Enwright?" she demanded. My heart sank. I recognized
the weapon in her hands. "The police," she went on, "do not yet know
that the letter of introduction you brought to the captain was signed by
a man who addressed Fraser-Freer as Dear Cousin, but who is completely
unknown to the family. Once that information reaches Scotland Yard, your
chance of escaping arrest is slim.

"They may not be able to fasten this crime upon you, but there will be
complications most distasteful. One's liberty is well worth keeping--and
then, too, before the case ends, there will be wide publicity--"

"'Well?" said I.

"That is why you are going to suffer a lapse of memory in the matter of
the hour at which you heard that struggle. As you think it over, it
is going to occur to you that it may have been six-thirty, not seven.
Otherwise--"

"Go on."

"Otherwise the letter of introduction you gave to the captain will be
sent anonymously to Inspector Bray."

"You have that letter!" I cried.

"Not I," she answered. "But it will be sent to Bray. It will be pointed
out to him that you were posing under false colors. You could not
escape!"

I was most uncomfortable. The net of suspicion seemed closing in about
me. But I was resentful, too, of the confidence in this woman's voice.

"None the less," said I, "I refuse to change my testimony. The truth is
the truth--"

The woman had moved to the door. She turned.

"To-morrow," she replied, "it is not unlikely you will see Inspector
Bray. As I said, I came here to give you advice. You had better take it.
What does it matter--a half-hour this way or that? And the difference is
prison for you. Good night."