ing my wife's
peculiarities. And I have made some study of Grant. He admits already
that he is under suspicion. Why, if he is innocent? Mind you, I pay
little heed to the crude disposal of the body. Horace, I think, has a
truism that art lies in concealing art. My wife's presence in Steynholme
was no secret. She would have been missed from the inn. Search would be
made. The murder must be revealed sooner or later, and the murderer
himself was aware that by no twisting or turning could his name escape
association with that of his victim. Why not face the music at once? he
would argue. The very simplicity of the means adopted to fasten a kind of
responsibility on him might prove his best safeguard. Even now I doubt
whether any jury will find him guilty on the evidence as it stands, but
my duty to my unhappy wife demands that I shall strengthen the arm of
justice by every legitimate means in my power."

"Is that your case, Mr. Ingerman?"

"At present, yes."

"It assumes that the police adopt your view."

"Not necessarily. The police must do their work without fear or favor.
But Grant can be committed for trial on a coroner's warrant."

"Grant is certainly in an awkward place."

"Only a little while ago you dismissed my theory of the crime as airy
persiflage."

"That was before you quoted Horace. I have a great respect for Horace.
His ode to the New Year is a gem."

"Would you care to see my wife's recent letters?"

"If you please."

"They are at my flat, I'll send you copies. The originals are always at
your disposal for comparison, of course. Now may I, without offense, ask
a question?"

"Yes."

"Is it wise that the emissary of Scotland Yard should leave Steynholme?"

"But didn't I tell you that I might obtain light in the neighborhood of
Cornhill?"

"True. I could have given you the facts in Steynholme."

"I'm a greater believer in what the theater people call 'atmosphere.'
Some of your facts, Mr. Ingerman, remind me of an expert's report in a
mining prospectus. When tested by cyanide of potassium the gold in the
ore often changes into iron pyrites. But don't hug the delusion that I
shall neglect Steynholme. The murderer is there, not in London, and,
unless my intellect is failing, he will be tried for his life at the next
Lewes Assizes. Meanwhile, may I give you a bit of advice?"

"By all means."

"Employ a sound lawyer, one who will avoid needless mud-slinging. Good
day! Send those letters to the