We were in the back room by this time, and a heap of letters and papers lay untidily on the floor. Miss Monk's photograph still smiled from the mantelpiece, and I stole a glance at it, which left me more enthralled than ever. "You won't mind my going on with my sorting," said Striver, placing a chair for me, and dropping on his knees; "but I want to get things straight before dark, as I have to return to Burwain for a few days." He was so amazingly cheerful, that I could not help saying so. He looked up smiling. "You can't expect a poor man who has come in for money to be miserable," said Striver, with much truth. "Besides my aunt never did care for me, and I was quite surprised to learn that I was her heir. Had we been at all attached to one another I should have come to the inquest, and even before, seeing she met with so dreadful a death. But there wasn't much love lost between us, Mr. Vance, so only as her heir did I come to the funeral. I can't pretend to feel very sorry." "That sounds rather heartless, seeing how you have benefited by her death." Striver shrugged. "I daresay; but I never was a hypocrite. Put yourself in my place. If a disagreeable old woman left you the money she could no longer use, would you break your heart?" I laughed. "No, I can't say that I would." "Very well, then," he reiterated coolly, "put yourself in my place. I'm sorry, of course, as I would be for any human being who was murdered. Otherwise," he shrugged again, "well, there's no more to be said." There came a pause. "I believe you hinted that you wished to ask me some questions?" Striver straightened himself. "Well, yes. Have you any idea who murdered my unfortunate aunt?" "Not in the least." "What about the lady in the white cloak?" "Appearances are against her. All the same, she may be innocent." The young man's blue eyes flashed like sapphires. "I doubt that; else why should she run off with your motor car and lock you in?" "Well," I drawled, not very sure of my ground, "she may have found your aunt dead, and in a fright----" "Oh, that won't wash," he interrupted in a somewhat common way. "You swore at the inquest, that you were attracted into this room by a groan from my aunt, in which case she could not have been dead when this lady went up the stairs." "That is true," I admitted, "but I don't hold a brief for the escaped lady, remember." "You speak as though you did," he retorted and went on with his sorting. "Has anything been heard of her?" "Nothing. I found my motor car in the field; but the lady has vanished." "Don't you think," Striver raised himself up to ask this question, "that she could be traced by means of that white cloak?" I shrugged in my turn and fenced, as I was not going to admit the truth. "I daresay the cloak was noticeable enough. All the same, she has _not_ been traced. Now, she never will be. I should not be surprised if the police gave up the case."