“Ysola,” said Colin Camber, inclining his head toward me in a grave gesture of courtesy, “Mr. Knox has generously forgiven me a breach of good manners for which I shall never forgive myself. I beg you to thank him, as I have done.” “It is so good of you,” she said, sweetly, and held out her hand. “But I knew you would understand that it was just a great mistake.” “Mr. Paul Harley,” Camber continued, “my wife welcomes you; and this, Ysola, is Inspector Aylesbury, who desires a few moments’ conversation upon a rather painful matter.” “I have heard, I have heard,” she whispered. “Ah Tsong has told me.” The pupils of her eyes dilated, as she fixed an appealing glance upon the Inspector. In justice to the latter he was palpably abashed by the delicate beauty of the girl who stood before him, by her naivete, and by that childishness of appearance and manner which must have awakened the latent chivalry in almost any man’s heart. “I am sorry to have to trouble you with this disagreeable business, Mrs. Camber,” he began; “but I believe you were awakened last night by the sound of a shot.” “Yes,” she replied, watching him intently, “that is so.” “May I ask at what time this was heard?” “Ah Tsong told me it was after twelve o’clock.” “Was the sound a loud one?” “Yes. It must have been to have awakened me.” “I see. Did you think it was in the house?” “Oh, no.” “In the garden?” “I really could not say, but I think that it was farther away than that.” “And what did you do?” “I rang the bell for Ah Tsong.” “Did he come immediately?” “Almost immediately.” “He was dressed, then?” “No, I don’t think he was. He had quickly put on an overcoat. He usually answers at once, when I ring for him, you see.” “I see. What did you do then?” “Well, I was frightened, you understand, and I told him to find out if all was well with my husband. He came back and told me that Colin was writing. But the sound had alarmed me very much.” “Oh, and now perhaps _you_ will tell me, Mrs. Camber, when and where your husband first met Colonel Menendez?” Every vestige of colour fled from the girl’s face. “So far as I know--they never met,” she replied, haltingly. “Could you swear to that?” “Yes.” I think that hitherto she had not fully realized the nature of the situation; but now something in the Inspector’s voice, or perhaps in our glances, told her the truth. She moved to where Colin Camber was sitting, looking down at him questioningly, pitifully. He put his arm about her and drew her close. Inspector Aylesbury cleared his throat and returned his note-book to his pocket. “I am going to take a look around the garden,” he announced. My respect for him increased slightly, and Harley and I followed him out of the study. A police sergeant was sitting in the hall, and Ah Tsong was standing just outside the door. “Show me the way to the garden,” directed the Inspector.