are here. She asks me to say that you may make any enquiries you like,
and she puts the house and grounds at your disposal. She had rather not
see you herself; she is keeping to her own sitting-room. She has already
been interviewed by a detective officer who is there, and she feels
unequal to any more. She adds that she does not believe she could say
anything that would be of the smallest use. The two secretaries and
Martin, the butler (who is a most intelligent man), could tell you all
you want to know, she thinks.'

Trent finished his breakfast with a thoughtful brow. He filled a pipe
slowly, and seated himself on the rail of the veranda. 'Cupples,' he
said quietly, 'is there anything about this business that you know and
would rather not tell me?'

Mr. Cupples gave a slight start, and turned an astonished gaze on the
questioner. 'What do you mean?' he said.

'I mean about the Mandersons. Look here! Shall I tell you a thing
that strikes me about this affair at the very beginning? Here's a man
suddenly and violently killed, and nobody's heart seems to be broken
about it, to say the least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about
him as coolly as if he'd never set eyes on him, though I understand
they've been neighbours every summer for some years. Then you talk about
the thing in the coldest of blood. And Mrs. Manderson--well, you won't
mind my saying that I have heard of women being more cut up about their
husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is there something in
this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer about
Manderson? I travelled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke
to him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough.
You see, this may have a bearing on the case; that's the only reason why
I ask.'

Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and
looked out over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. 'I see no reason,'
he said, 'why I shouldn't tell you as between ourselves, my dear fellow.
I need not say that this must not be referred to, however distantly. The
truth is that nobody really liked Manderson; and I think those who were
nearest to him liked him least.'

'Why?' the other interjected.

'Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account
to myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in
the man a complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing
outwardly repellent abou