Although he spoke lightly I welcomed his words as a good omen and turned in at the Dallas place, determined to do all I could to help him. It was a pleasant cottage, unpretentious and homelike, and we were admitted by a trim-looking maid, and conducted to a small reception room. “Come over here,” said a voice, a moment later, and we saw Katherine Dallas smiling at us from the door of the big living room opposite. She was charming, both in appearance and manner, and greeted us with courtesy if not warmth. But she clearly showed she considered it an interview rather than a social call and waited for Kee to state his errand. “Mr. Ames has asked me to look into the matter of Mr. Tracy’s death,” Moore began, shamelessly hiding behind Ames’s skirts. “And though I regret the necessity, I feel I must ask you a few questions which I hope you will be gracious enough to answer.” “Yes,” she returned, not at all helpfully, though in no way forbidding. I saw by the play of Keeley’s features that he had sized her up and had concluded to carry on the interview in strictly business fashion. “You were Mr. Tracy’s fiancée at the time of his death?” he asked. “Yes, Mr. Moore, I was.” “Then, as such, as the one holding the nearest relationship to him, if we except his niece, Miss Remsen, am I correct in assuming you desire the discovery of the criminal who is responsible for his death?” “No, Mr. Moore, you are not correct in that assumption. I loved Mr. Tracy, I hoped to marry him, but now that he is dead, I should greatly prefer that the matter be considered a closed book. I am not of a vindictive nature and to me the horrors of an investigation and all the harrowing details of such a procedure would be only less distressing than the tragedy itself. So far as I am concerned, I should infinitely prefer that the name of the wretch who cruelly killed Sampson Tracy should be buried in oblivion to having it sought for and blazoned to the public gaze.” “This is not the usual view to take of such a situation, Mrs. Dallas.” Kee’s tone conveyed distinct reproach. “The usual view has never meant anything to me, nor does it in this instance.” She was not exactly flippant, but there was a note in her voice that proved, to my mind at least, that she resented any discussion of her mental attitude, and indeed, resented the whole interview and our presence. Clearly, no help could be expected from her, yet I was moved to put a few straightforward questions. “Are you remaining here, Mrs. Dallas, for the rest of the summer?” She favoured me with a glance that was strongly disapproving of such an intrusive remark, and answered, icily: “That I have not yet decided.” “You know the terms of the will?” Kee shot at her, suddenly, having decided, as he afterward told me, that she was unworthy of delicate consideration. “Yes,” she said, with a face void of expression.