“I do not know,” I cried, “but be sure of this: Halsey knows nothing of this thing, and no amount of circumstantial evidence can make an innocent man guilty.” “Sit down,” he said, pushing forward a chair. “There are some things I have to tell you, and, in return, please tell me all you know. Believe me, things always come out. In the first place, Mr. Armstrong was shot from above. The bullet was fired at close range, entered below the shoulder and came out, after passing through the heart, well down the back. In other words, I believe the murderer stood on the stairs and fired down. In the second place, I found on the edge of the billiard-table a charred cigar which had burned itself partly out, and a cigarette which had consumed itself to the cork tip. Neither one had been more than lighted, then put down and forgotten. Have you any idea what it was that made your nephew and Mr. Bailey leave their cigars and their game, take out the automobile without calling the chauffeur, and all this at—let me see—certainly before three o’clock in the morning?” “I don’t know,” I said; “but depend on it, Mr. Jamieson, Halsey will be back himself to explain everything.” “I sincerely hope so,” he said. “Miss Innes, has it occurred to you that Mr. Bailey might know something of this?” Gertrude had come down-stairs and just as he spoke she came in. I saw her stop suddenly, as if she had been struck. “He does not,” she said in a tone that was not her own. “Mr. Bailey and my brother know nothing of this. The murder was committed at three. They left the house at a quarter before three.” “How do you know that?” Mr. Jamieson asked oddly. “Do you _know_ at what time they left?” “I do,” Gertrude answered firmly. “At a quarter before three my brother and Mr. Bailey left the house, by the main entrance. I—was—there.” “Gertrude,” I said excitedly, “you are dreaming! Why, at a quarter to three—” “Listen,” she said. “At half-past two the downstairs telephone rang. I had not gone to sleep, and I heard it. Then I heard Halsey answer it, and in a few minutes he came up-stairs and knocked at my door. We—we talked for a minute, then I put on my dressing-gown and slippers, and went down-stairs with him. Mr. Bailey was in the billiard-room. We—we all talked together for perhaps ten minutes. Then it was decided that—that they should both go away—” “Can’t you be more explicit?” Mr. Jamieson asked. “_Why_ did they go away?” “I am only telling you what happened, not why it happened,” she said evenly. “Halsey went for the car, and instead of bringing it to the house and rousing people, he went by the lower road from the stable. Mr. Bailey was to meet him at the foot of the lawn. Mr. Bailey left—” “Which way?” Mr. Jamieson asked sharply. “By the main entrance. He left—it was a quarter to three. I know exactly.” “The clock in the hall is stopped, Miss Innes,” said Jamieson. Nothing seemed to escape him.