it. Don't
you see, Odette, I want to help you? I want to clear your name of this
terrible charge. You suspect somebody. I must have his name."

She shook her head and turned her pathetic face to his.

"I can't tell you," she said in a low voice. "I can say no more. I
knew nothing of the murder until you told me. I had no idea, no
thought.... I hated Thornton Lyne, I hated him, but I would not have
hurt him ... it is dreadful, dreadful!"

Presently she grew calmer.

"I must go to London at once," she said. "Will you please take me back?"

She saw his embarrassment and was quick to understand its cause.

"You--you have a warrant, haven't you?"

He nodded.

"On the charge of--murder?"

He nodded again. She looked at him in silence for some moments.

"I shall be ready in half an hour," she said, and without a word the
detective left the room.

He made his way back to the doctor's sanctum, and found that gentleman
awaiting him impatiently.

"I say," said the doctor, "that's all bunkum about this girl being wanted
as a witness. I had my doubts and I looked up the Scotland Yard warning
which I received a couple of days ago. She's Odette Rider, and she's
wanted on a charge of murder."

"Got it first time," said Tarling, dropping wearily into a chair. "Do you
mind if I smoke?"

"Not a bit," said the doctor cheerfully. "I suppose you're taking her
with you?"

Tarling nodded.

"I can't imagine a girl like that committing a murder," said Dr.
Saunders. "She doesn't seem to possess the physique necessary to have
carried out all the etceteras of the crime. I read the particulars in the
_Morning Globe_. The person who murdered Thornton Lyne must have carried
him from his car and laid him on the grass, or wherever he was found--and
that girl couldn't lift a large-sized baby."

Tarling jerked his head in agreement.

"Besides," Dr. Saunders went on, "she hasn't the face of a murderer. I
don't mean to say that because she's pretty she couldn't commit a crime,
but there are certain types of prettiness which have their origin in
spiritual beauty, and Miss Stevens, or Rider, as I suppose I should call
her, is one of that type."

"I'm one with you there," said Tarling. "I am satisfied in my own mind
that she did not commit the crime, but the circumstances are all against
her."

The telephone bell jingled, and the doctor took up the receiver and spoke
a few words.

"A trunk call," he said, explaining the delay in r