"No, you must not do that," said Roger, quickly. "I want to see the end of this for my own sake, as you very truly say, so don't leave me in the lurch for the sake of a few hasty words. But you must admit, old fellow, that you spoke rather sharply to Judith." The philosophic Fanks thereupon recovered his temper and said sententiously: "Women are the devil." "Eh, how so?" "They cause trouble whenever they get mixed up in any affair. This case was difficult yesterday; to-day it is more difficult because feminine influence is now at work." "With whom?" "With me, with you, with Judas, with us all. May I say something without being thought rude?" "If it's about Judith--" "It is about Judith." "Then don't say it," retorted Roger, in a huff. "Very well," replied Fanks, resignedly; "but if you take away my guiding stars I'll never find my way across the ocean of mystery." Roger made no reply, but walked on rapidly with a frown on his good-looking face. Suddenly he stopped so dead short that Fanks, also using his legs in no slow fashion, shot past him a yard or so before he could pull up. Quoth Roger savagely: "Say your say and have done with it." Mr. Fanks surveyed his friend with a quiet smile, and then took him gently by the arm. "Come and have luncheon with me," he said, persuasively. "No." "They've got an excellent cook at the 'Foundryman.'" "I won't come." "I can give you a good bottle of claret." Axton exploded furiously. "Confound it, Fanks, why do you treat me like a child?" "Because you are one at present." "Oh, indeed," said Roger, with a sneer, "from your point of view." "From a common-sense point of view," replied Fanks, with great good-humour. "Come, don't be silly, my good fellow! You're sore because I don't worship your idol. Be easy, I'll do so when this case is finished." "But if--" "Oh, come to luncheon," said Fanks, and marched him off without further parley. The luncheon was good, both as regards victuals and wine, while Fanks, in the capacity of host, behaved in a wondrously genial fashion, so by the time they finished and were smoking socially by the fire, Roger had quite recovered his temper, and felt ashamed of his fit of ill-humour. "But you know," he said, guiltily, "I'm in love." "Business first, pleasure afterwards," quoth the philosopher, sagely. "Apropos of what?" "This case. I know you are in love, I know the lady you love. I quite approve of that love. Marriage, however, should begin with no secrets between man and wife." "Pish!" "In this case the wife would have a secret from the husband." "Rubbish!" "It may be, but it's rubbish that concerns those letters." "Perhaps you'll accuse Judith of the murder," cried Roger, in great wrath. A blank wall would have been more expressive than the face of the detective. "Why didn't she want me to read those letters?" he asked, quietly. "There are the letters--read them."