"Well, about when Philip offered us that studio, that accident happened, and everything was at sixes and sevens. Philip began it, stopping all that time in the cellar and behaving like a lunatic when he did come up. What his game was--well, you can search me. So first Philip starts playing the goat, and then there was all that fuss about Mrs. Esdaile going away, and Philip staying on day after day, always saying he was going and everything was perfectly all right but never budging an inch, mind you. Well, it began to get on Dawdy's nerves. And I began to catch it too. She said _I'd_ something up my sleeve as well, and of course I had, about that pistol. And then there was that time when we took her wardrobe down into the cellar." "Yes, tell me about that." "Absolutely nothing to tell. That's all Dawdy's fancy too. If there'd been anything funny he wouldn't have left the key in the door, would he?" "He took it out afterwards." "It was there for some days anyway. In fact, I took another box of Dawdy's down, but I came straight up again. You're all wrong about that cellar." "Hubbard doesn't think so." "What does he say?" "He doesn't actually say anything; he doesn't know; but he wouldn't be surprised if it turned out Philip had some sort of a portable installation down there. But don't take this from me. I know nothing about these things." "Wetherhead knows about them," Monty mused.... "Go on about Mrs. Cunningham." "Well, as I tell you, it got on her nerves. She began to say she was fed up with men and silly things like that. Didn't want to get married at all; wanted to go and live with some girl. And then one day----" But here he suddenly stopped, and for a reason I could easily guess. Undoubtedly at this point she had made independent investigations, which Monty either knew or suspected and didn't want to talk about. His hesitation over, he continued. "Well, so it dragged on, until one evening I met her after rehearsal, and that was the finish. Absolutely done in she was; ten hours that day and nothing but a bun and a glass of milk. Of course, I saw she was all tuckered up, and I didn't want to take much notice of what she said--just gave her something to eat and tried to calm her down. But it was no good. When I called at Oakley Street the next morning she'd gone--gone to stop with this other girl; and in a week the Company was off." In spite of Mollie's injunction I ventured to ask a question. "Did she return the ring you gave her?"