"Probably about a quarter past eight--the bodies were found at half past, they say," I answered. Simpson shook his head. "I'm afraid his alibi is good. It's cutting things too fine to think that he could have run six miles and back in less than half an hour and committed a murder in the bargain. It would have taken a speedy automobile. Do you know whether he had an automobile that night?" he queried. "I think he did. I can find out in a minute," I added, going to the telephone. I called up the country-club and finally succeeded in getting Jackson on the wire. Jackson thought Mr. Woods did not have an automobile that night, because he had gone to town in Mr. Paisley's car. "He might have used somebody else's car," Todd suggested. Simpson shook his head again. "We're getting clear off the track, now." An idea came to me suddenly and I called Up Pickering at the Benefit Insurance Company. "This is Thompson speaking, Pickering," I said. "Yes." "Do you remember if an automobile passed you on the night of the Felderson murder, going toward the country-club?" "No." "Do you mean you don't remember?" "No, I remember perfectly. There was only one automobile passed us and that was the black limousine." "You're sure?" I asked. "I'm positive, old man. We only saw one car from the time we left Blandesville, until we reached the city." I put up the receiver and sank back in my chair. "Well?" Todd flung at me. "I'm out of luck!" I responded. Simpson rose. "Let's go on. We have crossed off two of our suspects from the list, let's see--" "I'd rather not go on," I interrupted, looking out of the window to escape Todd's searching eyes. There was a moment's silence, then Simpson spoke. "We'll do our best but it will be a hard fight. If Mrs. Felderson could only recall what happened that night and before, we might have a chance, but every woman that has come up for murder during the last few years, has worked that lost memory gag." "But my sister really _has_ lost her memory!" I exclaimed. "I know, my dear boy," Simpson soothed. "That is what makes it so difficult. If she were only shamming now, we could--. But with your sister as helpless as a child, the prosecuting attorney will so confuse her, that our case will be lost as soon as she takes the stand." "Why put her on at all?" I asked. "Because we have to, if we hope to win our case," he replied. "The one big chance to win your jury comes when your beautiful client testifies." For a few minutes he was silent, obviously thinking, and thinking hard. "Of course, our defense will have to be temporary insanity," he declared at last. "Oh, not that!" I begged.