is difficult, when one
doesn't like the fellow a bit better than one did before. The whole
thing's damned awkward! And I'm thankful he's had the tact to take
himself off. It's a good thing Styles wasn't the mater's to leave to
him. Couldn't bear to think of the fellow lording it here. He's welcome
to her money."

"You'll be able to keep up the place all right?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. There are the death duties, of course, but half my father's
money goes with the place, and Lawrence will stay with us for the
present, so there is his share as well. We shall be pinched at first, of
course, because, as I once told you, I am in a bit of a hole financially
myself. Still, the Johnnies will wait now."

In the general relief at Inglethorp's approaching departure, we had the
most genial breakfast we had experienced since the tragedy. Cynthia,
whose young spirits were naturally buoyant, was looking quite her pretty
self again, and we all, with the exception of Lawrence, who seemed
unalterably gloomy and nervous, were quietly cheerful, at the opening of
a new and hopeful future.

The papers, of course, had been full of the tragedy. Glaring headlines,
sandwiched biographies of every member of the household, subtle
innuendoes, the usual familiar tag about the police having a clue.
Nothing was spared us. It was a slack time. The war was momentarily
inactive, and the newspapers seized with avidity on this crime in
fashionable life: "The Mysterious Affair at Styles" was the topic of the
moment.

Naturally it was very annoying for the Cavendishes. The house was
constantly besieged by reporters, who were consistently denied
admission, but who continued to haunt the village and the grounds, where
they lay in wait with cameras, for any unwary members of the household.
We all lived in a blast of publicity. The Scotland Yard men came and
went, examining, questioning, lynx-eyed and reserved of tongue. Towards
what end they were working, we did not know. Had they any clue, or would
the whole thing remain in the category of undiscovered crimes?

After breakfast, Dorcas came up to me rather mysteriously, and asked if
she might have a few words with me.

"Certainly. What is it, Dorcas?"

"Well, it's just this, sir. You'll be seeing the Belgian gentleman
to-day perhaps?" I nodded. "Well, sir, you know how he asked me so
particular if the mistress, or anyone else, had a green dress?"

"Yes, yes. You have found one?" My interest was aroused.