"I suppose," said Beale, looking up at the ceiling, "if I were one of those grand little mediaeval knights or one of those gallant gentlemen one reads about I should blow my brains out." "That would be a solution," said Mr. Kitson, "but we should still have to explain to your wife that she was a widow." "Then what am I to do?" "Have a cigar," said Kitson. He took two from his vest pocket and handed one to his companion, and his shrewd old eyes twinkled. "It's years and years since I read a romantic story," he said, "and I haven't followed the trend of modern literature very closely, but I think that your job is to sail in and make the lady love you." Beale jumped to his feet. "Do you mean that? Pshaw! It's absurd! It's ridiculous! She would never love me." "I don't see why anybody should, least of all your wife," said Kitson, "but it would certainly simplify matters." "And then?" "Marry her all over again," said Kitson, sending a big ring of smoke into the air, "there's no law against it. You can marry as many times as you like, providing you marry the same woman." "But, suppose--suppose she loves somebody else?" asked Beale hoarsely. "Why then it will be tough on you," said Kitson, "but tougher on her. Your business is to see that she doesn't love somebody else." "But how?" A look of infinite weariness passed across Kitson's face. He removed his glasses and put them carefully into their case. "Really, as a detective," he said, "you may be a prize exhibit, but as an ordinary human being you wouldn't even get a consolation prize. You have got me into a mess and you have got to get me out. John Millinborn was concerned only with one thing--the happiness of his niece. If you can make your wife, Mrs. Stanford Beale" (Beale groaned), "if you can make your good lady happy," said the remorseless lawyer, "my trust is fulfilled. I believe you are a white man, Beale," he said with a change in his tone, "and that her money means nothing to you. I may not be able to give a young man advice as to the best method of courting his wife, but I know something about human nature, and if you are not straight, I have made one of my biggest mistakes. My advice to you is to leave her alone for a day or two until she's quite recovered. You have plenty to occupy your mind. Go out and fix van Heerden, but not for his treatment of the girl--she mustn't figure in a case of that kind, for all the facts will come out. You think you have another charge against him; well, prove it. That man killed John Millinborn and I believe you can put him behind bars. As the guardian angel of Oliva Cresswell you have shown certain lamentable deficiencies"--the smile in his eyes was infectious, and Stanford Beale smiled in sympathy. "In that capacity I have no further use for your services and you are fired, but you can consider yourself re-engaged on the spot to settle with van Heerden. I will pay all the expenses of the chase--but get him."