before? Have you any idea where they come from?' he added as
Marlowe-took one in each hand and examined them curiously.

'They seem to have been cut with a knife or scissors from a small diary
for this year from the October pages,' Marlowe observed, looking them
over on both sides. 'I see no writing of any kind on them. Nobody here
has any such diary so far as I know. What about them?'

'There may be nothing in it,' Trent said dubiously. 'Any one in the
house, of course, might have such a diary without your having seen it.
But I didn't much expect you would be able to identify the leaves--in
fact, I should have been surprised if you had.'

He stopped speaking as Mrs Manderson came towards them. 'My uncle thinks
we should be going now,' she said.

'I think I will walk on with Mr Bunner,' Mr Cupples said as he joined
them. 'There are certain business matters that must be disposed of as
soon as possible. Will you come on with these two gentlemen, Mabel? We
will wait for you before we reach the place.'

Trent turned to her. 'Mrs Manderson will excuse me, I hope,' he said.
'I really came up this morning in order to look about me here for
some indications I thought I might possibly find. I had not thought of
attending the--the court just yet.'

She looked at him with eyes of perfect candour. 'Of course, Mr Trent.
Please do exactly as you wish. We are all relying upon you. If you will
wait a few moments, Mr Marlowe, I shall be ready.'

She entered the house. Her uncle and the American had already strolled
towards the gate.

Trent looked into the eyes of his companion. 'That is a wonderful
woman,' he said in a lowered voice.

'You say so without knowing her,' replied Marlowe in a similar tone.
'She is more than that.'

Trent said nothing to this. He stared out over the fields towards the
sea. In the silence a noise of hobnailed haste rose on the still air. A
little distance down the road a boy appeared trotting towards them
from the direction of the hotel. In his hand was the orange envelope,
unmistakable afar off, of a telegram. Trent watched him with an
indifferent eye as he met and passed the two others. Then he turned
to Marlowe. 'A propos of nothing in particular,' he said, 'were you at
Oxford?'

'Yes,' said the young man. 'Why do you ask?'

'I just wondered if I was right in my guess. It's one of the things you
can very often tell about a man, isn't it?'

'I suppose so,' Marlowe said. 'Well, each of us is