t... do it!" declared Denise Ryland, firmly. "A doctor ...
should never be known by any other name than... Doctor. If I heard any
one refer to my own... physician as Jack or... Bill, or Dick... I should
lose ALL faith in him at once!"

As the lunch proceeded, Dr. Cumberly gradually grew more silent, seeming
to be employed with his own thoughts; and although his daughter and
Denise Ryland were discussing the very matter that engaged his own
attention, he took no part in the conversation for some time. Then:

"I agree with you!" he said, suddenly, interrupting Helen; "the greatest
blow of all to Leroux was the knowledge that his wife had been deceiving
him."

"He invited... deceit!" proclaimed Denise Ryland, "by his... criminal
neglect."

"Oh! how can you say so!" cried Helen, turning her gray eyes upon the
speaker reproachfully; "he deserves--"

"He certainly deserves to know the real truth," concluded Dr. Cumberly;
"but would it relieve his mind or otherwise?"

Denise Ryland and Helen looked at him in silent surprise.

"The truth?" began the latter--"Do you mean that you know--where she
is"...

"If I knew that," replied Dr. Cumberly, "I should know everything; the
mystery of the Palace Mansions murder would be a mystery no longer. But
I know one thing: Mrs. Leroux's absence has nothing to do with any love
affair."

"What!" exclaimed Denise Ryland. "There isn't another man... in the
case? You can't tell me"...

"But I DO tell you!" said Dr. Cumberly; "I ASSURE you."

"And you have not told--Mr. Leroux?" said Helen incredulously. "You have
NOT told him--although you know that the thought--of THAT is?"...

"Is practically killing him? No, I have not told him yet. For--would my
news act as a palliative or as an irritant?"

"That depends," pronounced Denise Ryland, "on the nature of... your
news."

"I suppose I have no right to conceal it from him. Therefore, we will
tell him to-day. But although, beyond doubt, his mind will be relieved
upon one point, the real facts are almost, if not quite, as bad."

"I learnt, this morning," he continued, lighting a cigarette, "certain
facts which, had I been half as clever as I supposed myself, I should
have deduced from the data already in my possession. I was aware, of
course, that the unhappy victim--Mrs. Vernon--was addicted to the use of
opium, and if a tangible link were necessary, it existed in the form of
the written fragment which I myself took from the dead w