once when he had his hunting accident
three years ago. Then I remember that there was a name that came
continually to his lips. He spoke it with anger and a sort of horror.
McGinty was the name--Bodymaster McGinty. I asked him when he recovered
who Bodymaster McGinty was, and whose body he was master of. 'Never of
mine, thank God!' he answered with a laugh, and that was all I could
get from him. But there is a connection between Bodymaster McGinty and
the Valley of Fear."

"There is one other point," said Inspector MacDonald. "You met Mr.
Douglas in a boarding house in London, did you not, and became engaged
to him there? Was there any romance, anything secret or mysterious,
about the wedding?"

"There was romance. There is always romance. There was nothing
mysterious."

"He had no rival?"

"No, I was quite free."

"You have heard, no doubt, that his wedding ring has been taken. Does
that suggest anything to you? Suppose that some enemy of his old life
had tracked him down and committed this crime, what possible reason
could he have for taking his wedding ring?"

For an instant I could have sworn that the faintest shadow of a smile
flickered over the woman's lips.

"I really cannot tell," she answered. "It is certainly a most
extraordinary thing."

"Well, we will not detain you any longer, and we are sorry to have put
you to this trouble at such a time," said the inspector. "There are
some other points, no doubt; but we can refer to you as they arise."

She rose, and I was again conscious of that quick, questioning glance
with which she had just surveyed us. "What impression has my evidence
made upon you?" The question might as well have been spoken. Then, with
a bow, she swept from the room.

"She's a beautiful woman--a very beautiful woman," said MacDonald
thoughtfully, after the door had closed behind her. "This man Barker
has certainly been down here a good deal. He is a man who might be
attractive to a woman. He admits that the dead man was jealous, and
maybe he knew best himself what cause he had for jealousy. Then there's
that wedding ring. You can't get past that. The man who tears a wedding
ring off a dead man's--What do you say to it, Mr. Holmes?"

My friend had sat with his head upon his hands, sunk in the deepest
thought. Now he rose and rang the bell. "Ames," he said, when the
butler entered, "where is Mr. Cecil Barker now?"

"I'll see, sir."

He came back in a moment to say that Barker w