"To-day is Monday the twenty-second. As I told you, the day was Saturday the twentieth. By the way, you never received Betty's telegram?" "No, it must have reached Bangor just after I left. Probably, it never occurred to Aunt Livy to have it relayed to me on the train." "No great matter. There was nothing to be done but to put the poor girl decently away." "You mean that you've had the funeral?" "Yes, this morning. We could get no word of you, and I rather pushed it on Betty's account." "Was there an autopsy?" "I couldn't see any reason for it. The general indications were those of cerebral hemorrhage, and I had no hesitation in giving apoplexy as the cause of death. Yes, I know I changed my mind about Graeme, but in this case there could be no doubt about it." "She seemed to be in excellent general health," I remarked. "Had you ever noticed any premonitory signs--you know what I am trying to say?" "I never had Miss Trevor as a patient," said Marcy, "and so I can't give any definite opinion." "But you wouldn't put her down--I mean on the strength of your general observation--as predisposed to that sort of thing?" "No, I shouldn't." "You said virtually the same thing about my Cousin Francis." "I admit it. Still in that case the presence of an external wound gave ample justification for going further." "Just one or two more questions. Was the postern-door closed?" "Tight as a safety vault. You and Betty have the only keys in existence that unlock it." "How about the pridellas in the windows--the little ventilating apertures?" "They were all shut, too. Afterwards I spoke to Warriner about that very point, and he confirmed my impression." "Warriner!" "He arrived at the 'Hundred' very soon after I did. I believe they were going horseback riding." An unworthy thought crossed my mind, but I did my best to stamp it out of existence. Perhaps Betty had been feeling lonely during my long absence from home--perhaps. "There's one thing more," continued the doctor. "Eunice had been writing, and there were a number of sheets of MS. lying on the desk. Betty had them sealed up, pending your return." "Nothing has been heard of John Thaneford, I suppose?" "Not that I know of." I relapsed into silence, and presently we were at the house. Betty was waiting for me on the portico, and behind her loomed up the tall figure of Chalmers Warriner. I took my dear girl in my arms, and the tears came speedily to her relief; after all, Eunice Trevor had been her cousin and childhood playmate. Betty went to her room, and Doctor Marcy had to keep a professional engagement. Warriner and I had a whiskey-and-soda apiece, and over it discussed the meager details of the distressing occurrence. "Darker than ever," I remarked, when he had finished with his version of the affair. "It does look that way," he admitted. "Understand, there is no evidence of suicide." "So Marcy said." "Her written statement may shed some light."