o, sir."

"You are sure?"

"Quite sure."

"That's a pity. I thought you might be able to tell me how so many wine
and whiskey bottles came to be standing on the kitchen table."

I stared at him, dazed. Then I remembered the two small glasses on the
little table across the room, and instinctively glanced at them. But no
whiskey had been drunk out of them--the odor of anisette is unmistakable.

"You carry the key to the wine-cellar?" he asked.

I considered a moment. I did not know what to make of bottles on the
kitchen table. These women and _bottles_! They abhorred wine; they had
reason to, God knows; T remembered the dinner and all that had signalised
it, and felt my confusion grow. But a question had been asked, and I must
answer it. It would not do for me to hesitate about a matter of this
kind. Only what was the question. Something about a key. I had no key;
the cellar had been ransacked without my help; should I acknowledge this?

"The keys were given up by the janitor yesterday," I managed to
stammer at last. "But I did not bring them here to-night. They are in
my rooms at home."

I finished with a gasp. I had suddenly remembered that these keys were
not in my rooms. I had had them with me at Miss Cumberland's and being
given to fooling with something when embarrassed, I had fooled with them
and dropped them while talking with Adelaide and watching Carmel. I had
meant to pick them up but I forgot and--

"You need say nothing more about it," remarked Hexford. "I have no right
to question you at all." And stepping across the room, he took up the
glasses one after the other and smelled of them. "Some sweet stuff," he
remarked. "Cordial, I should say anisette. There wasn't anything like
that on the kitchen table. Let us see what there is in here," he added,
stepping into the adjoining small room into which I had simply peered in
my own investigation of the place.

As he did so, a keen blast blew in; a window in the adjoining room was
open. He cast me a hurried glance and with the door in his hand, made the
following remark:

"Your lady love--the victim here--could not have come through the snow
with no more clothing on her than we see now. She must have worn a hat
and coat or furs or something of that nature. Let us look for them."

I rose, stumbling. I saw that he did not mean to leave me alone for a
moment. Indeed, I did not wish to be so left. Better any companionship
than that of my own thoughts and