Diana’s eyes narrowed. “Or her?” she repeated. “What makes you say that? Was the other person a woman?” “It might have been.” Julius was not prepared to be more explicit. In truth, he wasn’t particularly sure himself, but being gifted by nature with the mystery novelist’s successful trick of passing on suspicion to the most unlikely quarters, he suggested a woman accomplice, if only to be the only person in the room who knew the truth. Which was that the second person was a man and used expressions that no lady could possibly employ. “Whether it is one or the other I am unable to make a statement at present,” he said sombrely. “That will come out at the trial.” “What really happened?” Bobbie put the question. He had still only a disjoined idea of what had occurred in the dark. Julius fumbled in his pocket and found a massive notebook, opened it deliberately, and, after much searching, found the page he sought. “At two A.M. on or about the fifteenth inst.,” he said sonorously and with complete relish, “I was aroused from my slumbers by an uneasy apprehension that trouble was abroad, viz: burglars or other bad characters. I proceeded at once to rise from my bed, which was twenty-five feet six inches from the window (I got Aunt Lizzie to measure it)” he explained in parenthesis. “The Study was in darkness, but I saw the figure of a man. As I darted forward to arrest him, there arose, seemingly from my feet, a person or persons unknown. Realising that danger threatened, I immediately grappled with them--I suppose you heard the sign of a struggle?” he asked anxiously. Diana had heard nothing. Bobbie shook his head. “I didn’t, but I wasn’t near enough,” he explained. Mr. Dempsi, his hand behind him, his bearded chin on his waistcoat, did not look up. “Suddenly,” resumed Superbus, “there was a shot and I knew no more.” “But you say it might have been a woman?” Diana was not inclined to lose sight of that point. “It might have been a man or a woman,” said Julius. “That will come out when I tell the secret story, so to speak. For the present I will describe it as a person or persons unknown. I don’t mind admitting,” he added, “that they was strangers to me, and I never want to see ’em again. Where’s Uncle Isaac? I haven’t seen him this morning.” “But when you grappled, Mr. Superbus, you surely knew whether it was a man or a woman?” insisted Diana. Julius inclined his head. “Speaking as a married man,” he said discreetly, “I ought to know.” “But you ‘grappled’?” “In a sense,” said Mr. Superbus, “only in a sense. When a man grapples with--with--a problem, does he catch it by the ear, or punch it under the jaw? No, ma’am. When I say grappled, I’m speaking in a general way.” “But you saw----” Here Julius was on safer ground.