s.

"Hold the curtain back," he directed sharply.

Standing on the chair, he began to examine the little brass plug to
which I had drawn his attention. For some time I watched him in
silence, and then:

"What do you think you have found?" I inquired.

He glanced down over his shoulder.

"I think I have found a _clew_!" he replied.

CHAPTER X

"HANGING EVIDENCE"

Isobel came into the room and approached the chair from which I had
arisen. In her plain morning frock, with the sun bringing out those
wonderful russet tints in her hair, but having that frightened look
still in her eyes, she had never seemed more beautiful. Yet I saw as I
rose to greet her that she was laboring under the influence of
dangerous nervous excitement.

"You are worried about Eric?" I said, when we had exchanged those
rather formal greetings in which I think we took mutual shelter.
Certainly I did, and later I was to know that Isobel did so, too.

"Every day seems to make the case grow blacker against him," she
replied, sinking down upon the settee beside me.

And indeed the shadow which had fallen upon all of us seemed at that
moment almost palpable--a thing to be felt like the darkness of Egypt
and not to be dispelled even by the brightness of the morning.

"When did you last see Coverly?"

Isobel raised her head wearily.

"Last night, and he seemed to think that some one was following him--a
detective."

I noticed that Isobel spoke of Eric Coverly with a certain manner of
restraint for which I could not account. Yet perhaps it was only
natural that she should do so, but at the time I was foolishly blind
to the opposing emotions which fought and conflicted within her.

"He still refused to explain his movements on the night of the
murder?" I asked.

"Yes, he persisted in his extraordinary silence," said Isobel.

The look of trouble in her eyes grew more acute.

"What I cannot understand is a sort of attitude of resentment which he
has lately adopted."

"Of resentment? Towards whom?"

"Towards _me_."

"But--"

"Oh, it's quite incomprehensible, Jack, and it is making me horribly
unhappy. He complained so bitterly too about this police surveillance
to which he is subjected. He realizes that the coroner is almost
certain to put a wrong construction on his silence, but instead of
being frank about it he adopts, even when alone with me, this
incomprehensible attitude of resentment. In fact his behavior almost
sug