"Why, Miss Morganthau," he said, "_you_ gave us the clue to that. He was jealous of the man who made the date you heard on the phone. Don’t you see," he said, turning to the others, "_that_ man kept his date and Reddy came and found him there." I can’t tell what it was that fell on us and made us sit so still for a minute. All of us knew it was just a joke, but—for me, anyway—it was as if a cloud had settled on the room. Babbitts sat smoking a cigarette and staring at the rings he was making with his eyes screwed up. Presently, when Jones spoke, his voice had a sound like his pride was taken down. "A great deal better than I expected, but it’s simply riddled with holes." Before Jasper could answer the door opened and Yerrington came in. The cigarette was hanging off his lip and as he said "Good evening" to me it wobbled but clung on. Then he pulled out a chair, sat down and, looking at the other three with a gleam in his eye, said: "A little while ago Dr. Fowler’s chauffeur in dusting out his car found the gold mesh purse squeezed down between the back and the cushion." IX The finding of the gold purse established the fact that part, anyway, of the Doctor’s story was true—the woman who had gone down to the junction and then disappeared _had_ disappeared in his auto. Was she Sylvia Hesketh? The general verdict was yes—Sylvia Hesketh, for some unknown reason, running away from her lover and her home. All the world knew now that she was wild and unstable, a girl that might take any whim into her head and act on the spur of the moment. There were theories to burn why she should have thrown down Reddy and slipped away alone, but those that knew her said she was a law unto herself and let it go at that. The morning after that supper in the Gilt Edge, Anne came in to do the marketing and stopped at the Exchange. The room was empty but even so I had to whisper: "Are they going to arrest the Doctor?" "He’s waiting," she whispered back. "What do you make of it?" "What I always have. I think the woman was Virginie. I think she took Sylvia’s things and lit out on her own account." "What does Mrs. Fowler say?" "She’s going to offer a reward for the murderer. That’s her way of answering. This last seems to have roused her. She knows now it’s going to be a fight for her husband’s liberty, perhaps his life. She’s employing Mills and some other detectives and she keeps in close touch with them." The next day the reward was made public. It was in all the papers and nailed up at the depot and in the post office, the words printed in black, staring letters: TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD! TO ANYONE DISCOVERING THE MURDERER OF THE LATE SYLVIA HESKETH, THIS SUM WILL BE PAID BY HER MOTHER, CONSTANCE GREY FOWLER, MAPLESHADE, NEW JERSEY.