"Of course," I responded in an awed voice, utterly bewildered. "What, I wonder, can they denote?" He shrugged his shoulders, examined each card carefully beneath the rays of his lamp, felt it, and after carefully examining all the heterogeneous collection of things in the drawer, placed them back again, closed it, and relocked it. "Those cards bear some very important part in the tragedy, I feel assured," he said when he had finished, and turned to me with a puzzled expression. "They look innocent enough, and the devices are in no way forbidding; nevertheless, it is strange that we find here, in her possession, exact duplicates not only of the cards, but also of that coin carried by the dead man." "It's all utterly astounding," I declared. Then, with a touch of poignant regret and despair, I added: "All these discoveries would cause me the highest gratification if I did not love her as fondly as I do." "You surely could not make a murderess your wife, Urwin?" my friend said. "In this matter remember that we are striving to fathom a mystery which is one of the most profound and remarkable that has ever been reported at the Yard." "I know," I answered, glancing around that small room wherein my well-beloved had spent her days in the study of art. "But what I cannot understand is how, being an actual victim of the tragedy, she is nevertheless at the same time implicated in the affair." "That will be made plain later," he said with an air of confidence. "One thing is quite clear, that she purchased certain poisons which are only known to those well versed in toxicology. We have that on old Lowry's own authority. If, then, she bought this drug it could only be for one purpose, namely, to commit murder. Well, she made an attempt upon you; therefore, why should you endeavour to shield her?" "Because I love her," I answered, still unconvinced by his argument. "Bah! Love is entirely out of the question in this matter, my dear fellow," he said, with a gesture of impatience. "She may have fascinated you because of her unusual beauty, but beyond that--well, in six months' time you'll thank Providence that you've not married her-- mark my words." That was exactly what she herself had said, I reflected. She had prophesied that one day, ere long, I would hate the very mention of her name. From room to room we passed, examining everything, allowing nothing to escape us. There was assuredly no sign of poverty in that house, but really the reverse, a lavish display of costly objects, which showed that its owner was capricious, with money at her command. No expense seemed to have been spared to render that abode the acme of comfort and modern convenience.