There was no dissenting voice. Alys raised her eyes and glanced about the room. Mrs. Cummack was not present. No doubt she had been carefully omitted from the conference. So had four members of the inner twelve who were comparative newcomers in Elsinore. All of these women had known Enid Balfame from childhood, consistently admired her; when she was in a position to make her social ambitions felt, had quite naturally fallen into line. "Isn't it rather a hasty conclusion?" Alys asked. "There are a good many others who might have done it, you know." "Everybody suspected has one grand alibi." Mrs. Gifning's sigh was rather hypocritical this time. "We'd be only too glad to think there was any one else likely to be arrested. No hope! No hope!" "I suppose"--Miss Crumley's tones were tentative, although the irresistible words almost cost her her breath--"that there was no man in love with Mrs. Balfame?" "Alys Crumley!" All the women had shrieked the name, and Mrs. Battle swung herself to her pointed toes. "I'm most mad enough to put you right out. The idea of insinuating--" "Dear me, Mrs. Battle, it never occurred to me that it was worse for a married woman to have a man in love with her than to commit murder. I did not insinuate or even imagine she cared for any man, or even encouraged one. But such things have happened." "Not to her. And while I could forgive her for shooting a perfectly loathsome husband under the influence of sudden passion, I'd never forgive her--Enid Balfame!--if she had stooped to anything so paltry and common and _sinful_ as philandering; for believe me, a man doesn't commit murder for a woman's sake unless he is reasonably certain that he will have his due rewards. That is life. And how _can_ he be certain, if there has been no philandering. No!" Mrs. Battle was once more magisterial in her chair, and in command of her best Friday Club vocabulary. "But there is this much to be said: Enid did not necessarily shoot to kill,--merely to wound perhaps,--for nothing would have punished Dave Balfame more than a month or two in bed on gruel and custard. Or maybe she just didn't know what she was doing--just fired to relieve her feelings. I am sure it would have relieved mine after that scene at the Club." "Oh--I apologise. Let us assume then that Mrs. Balfame did it. How do you propose to act in the matter? Of course you will not accuse her, but shall you cut her?"