ever change it, and I realized
that but two real bits of evidence connected her with Ashton's
death--one, the presence of her handkerchief in the room and the curious
use to which it had been put; the other, her early morning expedition
from the house and her sudden return. The former she had explained, at
least to my satisfaction, but the latter was still a mystery. If she
would but explain that, I felt sure that Inspector Burns' theory would
fall to the ground like a house of cards. Why she refused to do so, I
could not imagine--that she had some strong compelling reason, I felt
sure. She had told me that she went out that morning, with the intention
of going away and thus escaping the inevitable promise, which she knew
her father would insist upon her ratifying, to Ashton. She got only as
far as the end of the west wing, and hastily returned. Why?--that was
the question. Did she see anyone on the roof--and, if so, whom? Someone
she felt she must shield at any cost--there could be but one--her
father. Had she then seen him there? Did she think for a moment that he
had anything to do with Mr. Ashton's death? I could not believe that
even for her father's sake she would allow an innocent person to be
accused.

We drove up to Major Temple's door at about nine o'clock. It was quite
dark, and very cold. The house showed few lights, and it was some time
before we were admitted by Gibson, the man who, with myself, had broken
in Mr. Ashton's door. He ushered us into the library, where Major Temple
sat smoking. I could see that he was suffering deeply. The affair of Mr.
Ashton's death had told upon him, and he seemed nervous and constrained.
He greeted us pleasantly enough, however, shook hands with the
Inspector, and requested us to be seated. Sergeant McQuade, however,
announced that we had come on business of importance, and that Inspector
Burns desired to ask Miss Temple a few questions. Before doing so,
however, he requested the Major to conduct us to the scene of the
murder, which Inspector Burns had, of course, not had an opportunity, as
yet, to examine. The Major rose. "My daughter has retired, I fancy," he
said. "I have not seen her since dinner, but I will send her word." He
summoned one of the maids and requested her to inform Miss Temple of
our wishes, and then led the way to the green room. We were quite a
party. The Major led the way with Inspector Burns, and I followed with
McQuade, Major Temple's powerful mast