Dr. Anna's mind wandered to the scene of the murder. It was not difficult to construct, even from the meager details, and she shuddered. Murder! What a hideous word it was! Horrid that it should even brush the name of an exquisite creature like Enid Balfame. Would that Dave Balfame could have fallen of apoplexy while disgracing himself at the Club! But Anna frowned and shook the picture out of her mind. Doctors are too long trained in death to be haunted by its phantoms in any form. A sharp turn and the road ran beside a salt marsh, a solemn grey expanse that lost itself far away in the grey of the sea. Suddenly Dr. Anna became aware of a man walking rapidly down the road toward her. He carried his hat in his hand as if his head were hot on this cool autumn night. There was no fear of man in Dr. Anna, even on lonely country roads; nevertheless she had no mind to be detained, and was about to increase her speed, when her curiosity was excited by something pleasantly familiar in the tall loose figure, the almost stiffly upright head. A moment later and the bright moonlight revealed the white face of Dwight Rush. She brought the car to an abrupt halt as he too paused and nodded recognition. "What's the matter?" she asked sharply. "You looked as if you were walking to beat time itself--as if you saw a ghost to boot--" "Plenty of ghosts in my head. It aches like the dickens--" "Were you there when it happened?" "When what happened?" "What? You pretend you don't know--when all Elsinore must have known it within five minutes--" "I don't know what you are talking about. I followed you in from the Club and then took the train for Brooklyn, where I had to see a man. When I got back to Elsinore--off the train--my head ached so I knew I couldn't sleep--so I started out to walk it off--been walking for about two hours." "Dave Balfame was shot down at his own gate three or four hours ago." "Good God! Who did it? Is he dead?" "He's dead, and that's about all I can tell you. Houston went to the 'phone but he was in such a state of mind about his wife that he didn't stay for particulars. Enid wanted me--it was Lottie Gifning that 'phoned. I gathered, however, that they haven't caught the murderer yet." "Jove!" Rush was shaking. "I feel as if I'd been hit in the pit of the stomach. And I'm not one to go to pieces, either. But I've a good enough reason." Dr. Anna continued to stare at him. He met her gaze and wonder grew in his. Then the blood rushed into his face and he threw back his head. "What do you mean? That I did it?" "No--I don't see you committing murder--" "Not in that damned skulking way--" "Exactly. But you kind of suggest that you might know something about it. You might have been in the grove, or some other part of the grounds--with some idea of protecting Enid--" "Why should you think that?"