altogether," said Sowerby. "I can't imagine
myself standing for Mrs. Sowerby spending her week-ends in Paris. Asking
for trouble, I call it!"

"It does seem a daft arrangement," agreed Dunbar; "but then, as you say,
they're a funny couple."

"I never saw such a bundle of nerves in all my life!"...

"Leroux?"

Sowerby nodded.

"I suppose," he said, "it's the artistic temperament! If Mrs. Leroux
has got it, too, I don't wonder that they get fed up with one another's
company."

"That's about the secret of it. And now, I shall be glad, Sowerby, if
you will be after that taxi-man again. Report at one o'clock. I shall be
here."

With his hand on the door-knob: "By the way," said Sowerby, "who the
blazes is Mr. King?"

Inspector Dunbar looked up.

"Mr. King," he replied slowly, "is the solution of the mystery."

VII

THE MAN IN THE LIMOUSINE

The house of the late Horace Vernon was a modern villa of prosperous
appearance; but, on this sunny September morning, a palpable atmosphere
of gloom seemed to overlie it. This made itself perceptible even to the
toughened and unimpressionable nerves of Inspector Dunbar. As he mounted
the five steps leading up to the door, glancing meanwhile at the lowered
blinds at the windows, he wondered if, failing these evidences and his
own private knowledge of the facts, he should have recognized that the
hand of tragedy had placed its mark upon this house. But when the door
was opened by a white-faced servant, he told himself that he should, for
a veritable miasma of death seemed to come out to meet him, to envelop
him.

Within, proceeded a subdued activity: somber figures moved upon the
staircase; and Inspector Dunbar, having presented his card, presently
found himself in a well-appointed library.

At the table, whereon were spread a number of documents, sat a lean,
clean-shaven, sallow-faced man, wearing gold-rimmed pince-nez; a man
whose demeanor of business-like gloom was most admirably adapted to that
place and occasion. This was Mr. Debnam, the solicitor. He gravely
waved the detective to an armchair, adjusted his pince-nez, and coughed,
introductorily.

"Your communication, Inspector," he began (he had the kind of voice
which seems to be buried in sawdust packing), "was brought to me this
morning, and has disturbed me immeasurably, unspeakably."

"You have been to view the body, sir?"

"One of my clerks, who knew Mrs. Vernon, has just returned to this house