“Quite so.” He stared at me very hard. “Yet,” he said, “unless Mr. Colin Camber can produce an alibi I foresee a very stormy time for him.” “So do I, Harley. A deadly hatred existed between these two men, and probably this horrible deed was done on the spur of the moment. It is of his poor little girl-wife that I am thinking. As though her troubles were not heavy enough already.” “Yes,” he agreed. “I am almost tempted to hold my tongue, Knox, until I have personally interviewed these people. But of course if our blundering friend directly questions me, I shall have no alternative. I shall have to answer him. His talent for examination, however, scarcely amounts to genius, so that we may not be called upon for further details at the moment. I wonder how I can induce him to requisition Scotland Yard?” He rested his chin in his hand and stared down reflectively at the carpet. I thought that he looked very haggard, as he sat there in the early morning light, dressed as for dinner. There was something pathetic in the pose of his bowed head. Leaning across, I placed my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t get despondent, old chap,” I said. “You have not failed yet.” “Oh, but I have, Knox!” he cried, fiercely, “I have! He came to me for protection. Now he lies dead in his own house. Failed? I have failed utterly, miserably.” I turned aside as the door opened and Dr. Rolleston came in. “Ah, gentlemen,” he said, “I wanted to see you before leaving. I have just been to visit Madame de Stämer again.” “Yes,” said Harley, eagerly; “how is she?” Dr. Rolleston lighted a cigarette, frowning perplexedly the while. “To be honest,” he replied, “her condition puzzles me.” He walked across to the fireplace and dropped the match, staring at Harley with a curious expression. “Has any one told her the truth?” he asked. “You mean that Colonel Menendez is dead?” “Yes,” replied Dr. Rolleston. “I understood that no one had told her?” “No one has done so to my knowledge,” said Harley. “Then the sympathy between them must have been very acute,” murmured the physician, “for she certainly knows!” “Do you really think she knows?” I asked. “I am certain of it. She must have had knowledge of a danger to be apprehended, and being awakened by the sound of the rifle shot, have realized by a sort of intuition that the expected tragedy had happened. I should say, from the presence of a small bruise which I found upon her forehead, that she had actually walked out into the corridor.” “Walked?” I cried. “Yes,” said the physician. “She is a shell-shock case, of course, and we sometimes find that a second shock counteracts the effect of the first. This, temporarily at any rate, seems to have happened to-night. She is now in a very curious state: a form of hysteria, no doubt, but very curious all the same.” “Miss Beverley is with her?” I asked. Dr. Rolleston nodded affirmatively.