committed?"

"MURDER! Not--not"...

"Not any one connected with Mr. Leroux; no, thank God! but it was done
in his flat."...

Miss Ryland brushed a whisk of straight hair back from her brow with a
rough and ungraceful movement.

"My dear," she began, taking a French telegraphic form from her pocket,
"you see this message? It's one which reached me at an unearthly hour
this morning from Harry Leroux. It was addressed to his wife at my
studio; therefore, as her friend, I opened it. Mira Leroux has actually
visited me there twice since her marriage--"

"Twice!" Helen rose slowly to her feet, with horrified eyes fixed upon
the speaker.

"Twice I said! I have not seen her, and have rarely heard from her, for
nearly twelve months, now! Therefore I packed up post-haste and here I
am! I came to you, because, from what little I have heard of you, and
of your father, I judged you to be the right kind of friends to
consult."...

"You have not seen her for twelve months?"

Helen's voice was almost inaudible, and she was trembling dreadfully.

"That's a fact, my dear. And now, what are we going to tell Harry
Leroux?"

It was a question, the answer to which was by no means evident at
a glance; and leaving Helen Cumberly face to face with this new and
horrible truth which had brought Denise Ryland hotfoot from Paris to
London, let us glance, for a moment, into the now familiar room of
Detective-Inspector Dunbar at Scotland Yard.

He had returned from his interrogation of Brian; and he received the
report of Sowerby, respecting the late Mrs. Vernon's maid. The girl,
Sergeant Sowerby declared, was innocent of complicity, and could only
depose to the fact that her late mistress took very little luggage with
her on the occasions of her trips to Scotland. With his notebook open
before him upon the table, Dunbar was adding this slight item to his
notes upon the case, when the door opened, and the uniformed constable
entered, saluted, and placed an envelope in the Inspector's hand.

"From the commissioner!" said Sowerby, significantly.

With puzzled face, Dunbar opened the envelope and withdrew the
commissioner's note. It was very brief:--

"M. Gaston Max, of the Paris Police, is joining you in the Palace
Mansions murder case. You will cooperate with him from date above."

"MAX!" said Dunbar, gazing astoundedly at his subordinate.

Certainly it was a name which might well account for the amazement
written upon the inspect