“Miss Lang, my questions must have been very painful, and it has been very good of you to answer them so freely. I think there is only one thing more I need ask. At what time did Mr. George Brooklyn leave you?” “A few minutes after half-past ten. I went on the stage again almost immediately afterwards.” “And you did not see Mr. George Brooklyn again?” “No.” “You saw no more of either Mr. Prinsep or Mr. Walter Brooklyn, I suppose?” “Yes, as it happens, I caught sight, out of my window, of Mr. Prinsep walking in the garden behind the theatre. That must have been about a quarter past eleven.” “And that is all you saw. He was alone?” “Yes. I saw no one else.” “Then I have only to thank you again for the way in which you have told me what you know.” And with that the inspector took his leave, feeling that, as a result of his talk, he had scored another good point against Walter Brooklyn. Quite apart from the murders, the man really deserved hanging for his behaviour to Charis Lang—at least that was how Inspector Blaikie felt about it. He must get enough evidence to convince his reluctant superior, and thereafter twelve good men and true, that Walter Brooklyn was the murderer. John Prinsep, perhaps, was not such a bad riddance: certainly he had been behaving like a cad. But then, Charis Lang was in love with him, and that was enough to cover a multitude of sins. For her sake at least the murderer must be brought to justice. Moreover, George Brooklyn seemed to have been a good sort. The inspector was inclined to dismiss the idea that he had had anything to do with the killing of Prinsep, even though his talk with Prinsep after leaving Charis Lang might have afforded full provocation, if, as seemed likely, Prinsep had refused to marry her. The inspector’s last thought was that it was still a tangled enough skein that he had to unravel. But some at least of the knots had been successfully untied. Chapter XI Joan Takes Up the Case