Slowly I rowed back to the Moore cottage and pondered as I went. When I reached Variable Winds, I found the family and Detective March in full conclave. Spread on a table before them lay a conglomerate collection of small objects, among which I recognized a lot of beads that I had seen Alma wear, a pretty finger ring and several other odd bits of jewellery. Also, some scraps of bright coloured silk, that I felt, intuitively, were bits of the Tracy waistcoats. Also, a Totem Pole, broken into three pieces. I sat down with the others, and prepared to enter the discussion. “I want to know all about it,” I said. “All you know. Don’t keep anything back with the idea of sparing my feelings. I have not had a definite talk with Alma, but I have reason to think she cares for me, and I am content to bide my time. But, I propose to do all I can to save her from what I feel sure is a mistaken suspicion of her guilt in the Tracy matter.” “Very well,” said March, looking at me gravely, “then please understand that the evidence against Miss Remsen is overwhelming. You know most of it, you have heard nearly all the details of the case as they have come to light. Now, try to realize that the cumulation of all these facts is a mountain of proof that will be hard to move.” “I have heard it stated,” I said, calmly, “that circumstantial evidence, though seemingly convincing, must never be taken as absolute proof.” Keeley stared at me, as if amazed, but I stood my ground. “You’ll have to get a human witness before you can declare a certainty.” “True enough, Mr. Norris,” March agreed. “And we have plenty of human evidence. Mr. Ames’s story of the quarrel between Miss Remsen and her uncle, you have heard. At that time Miss Remsen declared she would do something desperate, if Sampson Tracy persisted in his determination to tell Mrs. Dallas something that Alma wanted kept secret. What could that be, save the fact of her own defective health, or impaired mentality? She said Mrs. Dallas already hated her, and, knowing that, would hate her more. What other construction can possibly be put on those words? Then, we have Jennie’s story of Miss Remsen’s behaviour the night of Mr. Tracy’s death. That girl would never invent a story so wildly improbable as the tale of Miss Remsen jumping from the window into the lake.”