“He was discharged, of course; the magistrate adding a very severe remark on the subject of ‘carelessly collected evidence.’ As for Miss Amelia, she sailed out of the court like a queen after her coronation, for with Wyatt’s discharge the case against her naturally collapsed. As for me, I walked out too, with an elated feeling at the thought that the intelligence of the British race had not yet sunk so low as our friends on the Continent would have us believe.” Chapter IV “But then, who murdered the old man?” I asked, for I confess the matter was puzzling me in an irritating kind of way. “Ah! who indeed?” he rejoined sarcastically, while an artistic knot went to join its fellows along that never-ending bit of string. “I wish you’d tell me what’s in your mind,” I said, feeling peculiarly irritated with him just at that moment. “What’s in my mind?” he replied, with a shrug of his thin shoulders. “Oh, only a certain degree of admiration!” “Admiration at what?” “At a pair of exceedingly clever criminals.” “Then you do think that Wyatt murdered Dyke?” “I don’t think—I am sure.” “But when did they do it?” “Ah, that’s more to the point. Personally, I should say between them on Wednesday morning, 18th November.” “The day they went for that motor-car ride?” I gasped. “And carried away the old man’s remains beneath a multiplicity of rugs,” he added. “But he was _alive_ long after that!” I urged. “The woman Nicholson——” “The woman Nicholson saw and spoke to a man in bed, whom she _supposed_ was old Mr. Dyke. Among the many questions put to her by those clever detectives, no one thought, of course, of asking her to describe the old man. But even if she had done so Wyatt was far too great an artist in crime not to have contrived a make-up which, described by a witness who had never before seen Dyke, would easily pass as a description of the old man himself.” “Impossible!” I said, struck in spite of myself by the simplicity of his logic. “Impossible, you say?” he shrieked excitedly. “Why, I call that crime a masterpiece from beginning to end; a display of ingenuity which, fortunately, the criminal classes seldom possess, or where would society be? Here was a crime committed, where everything was most beautifully stage-managed, nothing left unforeseen. Shall I reconstruct it for you?” “Do!” I said, handing across the table to him a brand new, beautiful bit of string, on which his talon-like fingers fastened as upon a prey. “Very well,” he said, marking each point with a scientific knot. “Here it is, scene by scene: There was Alfred Wyatt and Amelia Dyke—a pair of blackguards, eager to obtain that £4,000 which only the old man’s death could secure for them. They decide upon killing him, and: Scene 1—Miss Amelia makes _her_ arrangements. She advertises for a charwoman, and engages one, who is to be a very useful witness presently.