tering their assumed names at the desk, was not entirely
his dupe, and having hidden the letter in her shoe----"

"What!" I cried.

"_Having hidden the letter in her shoe_," repeated Mr. Gryce, with his
finest smile, "she had but to signify that the boots sent by Altman were
a size too small, for her to retain her secret and keep the one article
she traded upon from his envious clutch. You seem struck dumb by this,
Miss Butterworth. Have I enlightened you on a point that has hitherto
troubled you?"

"Don't ask me; don't look at me." As if he ever looked at any one! "Your
perspicacity is amazing, but I will try and not show my sense of it, if
it is going to make you stop."

He smiled; the Inspector smiled: neither understood me.

"Very well then, I will go on; but the non-change of shoes had to be
accounted for, Miss Butterworth."

"You are right; and it _has_ been, of course."

"Have you any better explanation to give?"

I had, or thought I had, and the words trembled on my tongue. But I
restrained myself under an air of great impatience. "Time is flying!" I
urged, with as near a simulation of his own manner in saying the words
as I could affect. "Go on, Mr. Gryce."

And he did, though my manner evidently puzzled him.

"Being foiled in this his last attempt, this smooth and diabolical
villain hesitated no longer in carrying out the scheme which had
doubtless been maturing in his mind ever since he dropped the key of his
father's house into his own pocket. His brother's wife must die, but not
in a hotel room with him for a companion. Though scorned, detested, and
a stumbling-block in the way of the whole family's future happiness and
prosperity, she still was a Van Burnam, and no shadow must fall upon her
reputation. Further than this, for he loved life and his own reputation
also, and did not mean to endanger either by this act of
self-preservation, she must perish as if from accident, or by some blow
so undiscoverable that it would be laid to natural causes. He thought he
knew how this might be brought about. He had seen her put on her hat
with a very thin and sharp pin, and he had heard how one thrust into a
certain spot in the spine would effect death without a struggle. A wound
like that would be small; almost indiscernible. True it would take skill
to inflict it, and it would require dissimulation to bring her into the
proper position for the contemplated thrust; but he was not lacking in
either of thes