“I remember coming through your window; I remember that quite well.” A faint flush came to her cheeks. “But that is all. Everything seems to have begun then; nothing seems to have happened before.” I took a pair of white kid gloves out of my coat pocket. “Are these your gloves?” She eyed them askance. “I don’t know--are they? Where did you get them from?” I did not care to tell her that I found them on a chair in the room in which Edwin Lawrence lay dead. “You should know better than I, if they are yours.” “They may be--I can’t tell. I’ll try them on and see if they fit.” She did try them on, and they did fit--to perfection. She held out her gloved hands. “They look as if they were mine--they must be; don’t you think they are?” “I have not a doubt that they are yours.” I turned my face away. A weight had become suddenly attached to my heart. There was a choking something in my throat. She was quick to perceive the alteration in my demeanour. “Why do you turn your face away from me? Have I said or done anything wrong? Aren’t the gloves mine?” I replied to her with another question. “Do you know any one named Lawrence?” “Lawrence? Lawrence? I can’t remember. Is it a woman’s name?” “No; it is not a woman’s name, it’s a man’s name. Edwin Lawrence.” “Why do you ask? Do you know him?” “I do; and so do you.” “I! How do you know I know him?” “Because, last night, it was from his room you came to mine.” I regarded her with what quite possibly were accusatory glances; but if I expected my words to take her by surprise, or to cause her to betray signs of guilt, I was mistaken. She met my glances with serenely untroubled countenance, as if she were wondering what exactly my meaning might chance to be. “I came to your room from his? What was I doing in his room?” “Think! Try to think! You must remember what happened in Edwin Lawrence’s room to cause you to fly through his window, taking refuge anyhow and anywhere.” “You say that I came from his room to yours; how did I come?” “Along the balcony. You must have rushed through his window straight to mine; whether you tried other windows as you passed I cannot say. Perhaps mine was the first which you found open.” “Then his room is in this house?” “Of course it is; it’s on the same floor as mine.” “Then take me to it--now! At once! If I were to see the room, and to see Edwin Lawrence, it might all come back to me.” “Take you to see Edwin Lawrence?” “Yes; why not?” “Why should I not take you to see Edwin Lawrence? You know why!” I gripped her roughly by the wrist. She gave a cry of pain. I loosed her, ashamed. She eyed me as if bewildered. “Why did you take hold of me like that? You hurt me.” “You should not play with me.” “Play with you? I was not playing. I only asked you to take me to see this room, and this Edwin Lawrence, of whom you keep on speaking--that was all.” “Yes, that was all.”