nly suggested by what you had read in the Report of the Trial?"

"Yes."

He drew a slip of paper out of the drawer in his desk, dipped his pen
in the ink, considered a little, and placed a chair for me close at his
side.

"The lawyer disappears," he said, "and the man resumes his proper place.
There shall be no professional mysteries between you and me. As your
husband's old friend, Mrs. Eustace, I feel no common interest in you. I
see a serious necessity for warning you before it is too late; and I can
only do so to any good purpose by running a risk on which few men in my
place would venture. Personally and professionally, I am going to trust
you--though I _am_ a Scotchman and a lawyer. Sit here, and look over my
shoulder while I make my notes. You will see what is passing in my mind
if you see what I write."

I sat down by him, and looked over his shoulder, without the smallest
pretense of hesitation.

He began to write as follows:

"The poisoning at Gleninch. Queries: In what position does Miserrimus
Dexter stand toward the poisoning? And what does he (presumably) know
about that matter?

"He has ideas which are secrets. He suspects that he has betrayed them,
or that they have been discovered in some way inconceivable to himself.
He is palpably relieved when he finds that this is not the case."

The pen stopped; and the questions went on.

"Let us advance to your second visit," said Mr. Playmore, "when you
saw Dexter alone. Tell me again what he did, and how he looked when you
informed him that you were not satisfied with the Scotch Verdict."

I repeated what I have already written in these pages. The pen went back
to the paper again, and added these lines:

"He hears nothing more remarkable than that a person visiting him, who
is interested in the case, refuses to accept the verdict at the Macallan
Trial as a final verdict, and proposes to reopen the inquiry. What does
he do upon that?

"He exhibits all the symptoms of a panic of terror; he sees himself in
some incomprehensible danger; he is frantic at one moment and servile
at the next; he must and will know what this disturbing person really
means. And when he is informed on that point, he first turns pale and
doubts the evidence of his own senses; and next, with nothing said to
justify it, gratuitously accuses his visitor of suspecting somebody.
Query here: When a small sum of money is missing in a household, and
the servants in general are called