m for over three weeks; and then, when the servants
had left the room, she placed her elbows upon the table, at the risk
of a breach of good manners, and resting her chin upon her hands,
looked me full in the face, saying:

"Now, tell me the truth, Doctor. What has been discovered regarding my
poor husband's death? Have the police obtained any clue to the
assassin?"

"None--none whatever, I regret to say," was my response.

"They are useless--worse than useless!" she burst forth angrily; "they
blundered from the very first."

"That's entirely my own opinion, dear," her mother said. "Our police
system nowadays is a mere farce. The foreigners are far ahead of us,
even in the detection of crime. Surely the mystery of your poor
husband's death might have been solved, if they had worked
assiduously."

"I believe that everything that could be done has been done," I
remarked. "The case was placed in the hands of two of the smartest and
most experienced men at Scotland Yard, with personal instructions from
the Superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department to leave
no stone unturned in order to arrive at a successful issue."

"And what has been done?" asked the young widow, in a tone of
discontent; "why, absolutely nothing! There has, I suppose, been a
pretence at trying to solve the mystery; but, finding it too
difficult, they have given it up, and turned their attention to some
other crime more open and plain-sailing. I've no faith in the police
whatever. It's scandalous!"

I smiled; then said:

"My friend, Ambler Jevons--you know him, for he dined at Richmond Road
one evening--has been most active in the affair."

"But he's not a detective. How can he expect to triumph where the
police fail?"

"He often does," I declared. "His methods are different from the
hard-and-fast rules followed by the police. He commences at whatever
point presents itself, and laboriously works backwards with a patience
that is absolutely extraordinary. He has unearthed a dozen crimes
where Scotland Yard has failed."

"And is he engaged upon my poor husband's case?" asked Mary, suddenly
interested.

"Yes."

"For what reason?"

"Well--because he is one of those for whom a mystery of crime has a
fascinating attraction."

"But he must have some motive in devoting time and patience to a
matter which does not concern him in the least," Mrs. Mivart remarked.

"Whatever is the motive, I can assure you that it is an entirely