ck, did not know what
to do; and Haddo's little eyes twinkled as he watched their discomfiture.

'I always thought that your friend had deplorable manners,' he murmured.

Susie, feeling very ridiculous, flushed, and Dr Porhoet awkwardly took
off his hat. As they walked away, they felt Haddo's mocking gaze fixed
upon them, and they were heartily thankful to reach the gate. They found
Arthur waiting for them.

'I beg your pardon,' he said, 'I forgot that I was not alone.'

The three of them drove slowly back to the inn.

'What are you going to do now?' asked Susie.

For a long time Arthur made no reply, and Susie thought he could not have
heard her. At last he broke the silence.

'I see that I can do nothing by ordinary methods. I realize that it is
useless to make a public outcry. There is only my own conviction that
Margaret came to a violent end, and I cannot expect anyone to pay heed to
that.'

'After all, it's just possible that she really died of heart disease.'

Arthur gave Susie a long look. He seemed to consider her words
deliberately.

'Perhaps there are means to decide that conclusively,' he replied at
length, thoughtfully, as though he were talking to himself.

'What are they?'

Arthur did not answer. When they came to the door of the inn, he stopped.

'Will you go in? I wish to take a walk by myself,' he said.

Susie looked at him anxiously.

'You're not going to do anything rash?'

'I will do nothing till I have made quite sure that Margaret was foully
murdered.'

He turned on his heel and walked quickly away. It was late now, and they
found a frugal meal waiting for them in the little sitting-room. It
seemed no use to delay it till Arthur came back, and silently,
sorrowfully, they ate. Afterwards, the doctor smoked cigarettes, while
Susie sat at the open window and looked at the stars. She thought of
Margaret, of her beauty and her charming frankness, of her fall and of
her miserable end; and she began to cry quietly. She knew enough of the
facts now to be aware that the wretched girl was not to blame for
anything that had happened. A cruel fate had fallen upon her, and she had
been as powerless as in the old tales Phaedra, the daughter of Minos, or
Myrrha of the beautiful hair. The hours passed, and still Arthur did not
return. Susie thought now only of him, and she was frightfully anxious.

But at last he came in. The night was far advanced. He put down his hat
and sat down. For a lo