ver even think about him, now."

"I see," he said. "Well, that's that."

But he had not counted on her intuition, and was startled to hear her
say:

"Well? Go on."

"What do you mean, go on?"

"You brought me out here to tell me something."

"Not at all. I simply--"

"Where is he? You've seen him."

He tried to meet her eyes, failed, cursed himself for a fool. "He's
alive and well, Elizabeth. I saw him in New York." It was a full minute
before she spoke again, and then her lips were stiff and her voice
strained.

"Has he gone back to her? To the actress he used to care for?"

He hesitated, but he knew he would have to go on.

"I'm going to tell you something, Elizabeth. It's not very creditable
to me, but I'll have to trust you. I don't want to see you wasting your
life. You've got plenty of courage and a lot of spirit. And you've got
to forget him."

He told her, and then he took her home. He was a little frightened, for
there was something not like her in the way she had taken it, a sort of
immobility that might, he thought, cover heartbreak. But she smiled when
she thanked him, and went very calmly into the house.

That night she accepted Wallie Sayre.

XLIII

Bassett was having a visitor. He sat in his chair while that visitor
ranged excitedly up and down the room, a short stout man, well dressed
and with a mixture of servility and importance. The valet's first words,
as he stood inside the door, had been significant.

"I should like to know, first, if I am talking to the police."

"No--and yes," Bassett said genially. "Come and sit down, man. What I
mean is this. I am a friend of Judson Clark's, and this may or may not
be a police matter. I don't know yet."

"You are a friend of Mr. Clark's? Then the report was correct. He is
still alive, sir?"

"Yes."

The valet got out a handkerchief and wiped his face. He was clearly
moved.

"I am glad of that. Very glad. I saw some months ago, in a
newspaper--where is he?"

"In New York. Now Melis, I've an idea that you know something about the
crime Judson Clark was accused of. You intimated that at the inquest."

"Mrs. Lucas killed him."

"So she says," Bassett said easily.

The valet jumped and stared.

"She admits it, as the result of an accident. She also admits hiding the
revolver where you found it."

"Then you do not need me."

"I'm not so sure of that."

The valet was puzzled.

"I want you to think back, Melis. You saw h