ly occupied with the
investigations at which I was assisting, and went past her, leaving
her standing alone.

The police were busy examining the doors and windows of the back
premises, kitchens, scullery, and pantry, but could find no evidence
of any lock or fastening having been tampered with. The house, I must
explain, was a large detached red brick one, standing in a lawn that
was quite spacious for a suburban house, and around it ran an asphalte
path which diverged from the right hand corner of the building and ran
in two parts to the road, one a semi-circular drive which came up to
the portico from the road, and the other, a tradesmen's path, that ran
to the opposite extremity of the property.

From the back kitchen a door led out upon this asphalted tradesmen's
path, and as I rejoined the searchers some discussion was in
progress as to whether the door in question had been secured. The
detective-sergeant had found it unbolted and unlocked, but the cook
most positively asserted that she had both locked and bolted it at
half-past ten, when the under housemaid had come in from her "evening
out." None of the servants, however, recollected having undone the
door either before the alarm or after. Perhaps Short had done so, but
he was absent, in search of the dead man's widow.

The police certainly spared no pains in their search. They turned the
whole place upside down. One man on his hands and knees, and carrying
a candle, carefully examined the blue stair-carpet to see if he could
find the marks of unusual feet. It was wet outside, and if an intruder
had been there, there would probably remain marks of muddy feet. He
found many, but they were those of the constable and detectives. Hence
the point was beyond solution.

The drawing-room, the dining-room, the morning-room, and the big
conservatory were all closely inspected, but without any satisfactory
result. My love followed us everywhere, white-faced and nervous, with
the cream chenille shawl still over her shoulders. She had hastily put
up her wealth of dark hair, and now wore the shawl wrapped lightly
about her.

That shawl attracted me. I managed to speak with her alone for a
moment, asking her quite an unimportant question, but nevertheless
with a distinct object. As we stood there I placed my hand upon her
shoulder--and upon the shawl. It was for that very reason--in order
to feel the texture of the silk--that I returned to her.

The contact of my hand w