indows, stand a little while on the step, and go
in again."

"Ah, you saw that? Then I have one witness who will help to dispel that
stupid policeman's notion that I killed Miss Melhuish, and hid her body
in the river at the foot of the lawn, hid it with such care that the
first passerby must find it."

Every human being has three distinct personalities. Firstly, there is the
man or woman as he or she really is; secondly, there is the much superior
individual as assessed personally; thirdly, and perhaps the most
important in the general scheme of things, there is the same
individuality as viewed by others. For an instant, the somewhat idealized
figure which John Menzies Grant offered to a pretty and intelligent but
inexperienced girl was in danger of losing its impressiveness. But, since
Grant was not only a good fellow but a gentleman, his next thought
restored him to the pedestal from which, all unknowing, he had nearly
been dethroned.

"That is a nice thing to say," he cried, with a short laugh of sheer
vexation. "Here am I regarding you as a first-rate witness in my behalf,
whereas my chief worry is to keep you out of this ugly business
altogether. Forgive me, Doris! Never before have I been so bothered.
Honestly, I imagined I hadn't an enemy in the world, yet someone has
tried deliberately to saddle me with suspicion in this affair. Not that I
would give real heed to that consideration if it were not for the unhappy
probability that, strive as I may, your name will crop up in connection
with it. What sort of fellow is this police constable? Do you think he
would keep his mouth shut if I paid him well?"

Grant was certainly far from being in his normal state of mind, or he
would have caught the tender gleam which lighted the girl's eyes when she
understood that his concern was for her, not for himself. As it was,
several things had escaped him during that brief talk on the sunlit road.

On her part, Doris Martin was now in full control of her emotions, and
she undoubtedly took a saner view of a difficult situation.

"Robinson is a vain man," she said thoughtfully. "He will not let go the
chance of notoriety given him by the murder of a well-known actress. Was
she really murdered? Robinson said so when I met him on the bridge."

"I'm afraid he is justified in that belief, at any rate."

"Well, Mr. Grant, what have we to conceal? I was in your garden at a
rather late hour, I admit, but one cannot watch the sta