"My husband was a great artist," Joyce began, as if thinking it out for herself. "He was accustomed to having his models do as he requested. Miss Vernon was not always amenable to his wishes and--and they were not very good friends." "But you and Miss Vernon are good friends? You like her?" Joyce favoured Natalie with a calm stare. "Certainly," she said, in an even voice, "I like her." "Whew!" breathed our friend Roberts, silently. "At last I see what one Mr. Pope meant when he wrote: "Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And, without sneering, cause the rest to sneer." For, surely, Joyce's attestation of friendship between herself and the artist's model convinced nobody. She sat, gracefully erect, her serious face blank of any emotion, yet impressing all with the sense of profound feeling beneath. "In what ways did Miss Vernon incur Mr. Stannard's displeasure?" asked Lamson. "Merely on some technical matters connected with her posing for his pictures," was the nonchalant reply. "That, then, could scarcely be construed into a motive for murder?" "Scarcely." Joyce seemed to give a mere parrot-like repetition of the Coroner's word. "Yet, you are willing to believe that Miss Vernon is the criminal we are seeking?" "I do not say that," and Joyce spoke softly. "I can only say I saw her here when I came into this room and found my husband dying." "Might she not have come in just as you did, attracted by that strange sound, as of a man in pain?" "In that case, who could have stabbed my husband? There was no one else near. That has been testified by those who entered at the other end of the room." "Could not a burglar have entered by a window, attempted robbery, and, being discovered, stabbed Mr. Stannard in self-preservation?" "How could he have entered?" said Joyce, dully. "I can see no way. That is, he might have been in here, but in no way could he have gotten out. That great North window, I am told, opens only in a few high sectional panes. It is shaded by rollers from the bottom, and is inaccessible. The other large window, the West one, is so blocked up with easels, canvases and casts, that it is certain nobody could get in or out of that. The door to the main hall was, of course, in full sight of Blake the footman, and that leaves only the South end of the room to be considered. Now no intruder could have gone out by the door to the Billiard Room or the door to the Terrace without having been seen by you or Miss Vernon, who claims she was on the Terrace all evening."