Maddox herself says that when she saw the girl in the beaded room there were three girls and two men in the adjoining parlour, and there were two men in the little room with her. It was a busy afternoon, the eve of the closing of the wine saloon, and almost the eve of the New Year. If that girl were in the wine shop from 3 until 5 or 6 she would have been seen by anything from fifty to a hundred people. It is incredible that all these people were degenerates, who would connive at a dastardly outrage, by whomsoever committed. Yet the simple fact remains that the only persons who came forward, in response to earnest and widely-published appeals for information about the girl, were the prostitute, Olive Maddox, and her mysterious friend, with the inscrutable past, Ivy Matthews. And neither of them came forward until a handsome reward was offered for the information. Of this reward, Ivy Matthews has received £437/10/-, and Olive Maddox £214/5/-. If we know all the services rendered by each, the positions should have been reversed, for it was Olive Maddox who first gave the information which put the police on what they, no doubt, still honestly believe was the right trail. But do we know all? It will be shown later that, at the time Colin Ross’s doom was sealed, we did not. HARDING’S COCK-AND-BULL STORY. Turning now to the alleged confession to Harding, it will be seen that it will bear analysis no better than Matthews’s. The questions supposed to have been put by Harding bear their own refutation. Take the words near the opening:—“I said: ‘Did you see the girl?’ He said: ‘Yes!’” What would have happened had the conversation reached that interesting stage? All eagerness, Harding would have followed it up by asking what happened. But what does he do? He inquires weakly, like a lady of fashion: “How was she dressed?” With great minuteness Ross described her dress, down to her shoes and stockings, and with great accuracy Harding remembered it all. Then Harding inquired, still curbing his curiosity: “Did you tell the detectives that you saw her?” And Ross replied: “Yes; but I told them that she had black boots”—a little touch not borne out by Ross’s written statement, but clearly designed to furnish corroboration of Harding’s story that Ross had confessed. Then a little later on we have Harding interposing with the unreal inquiry: “What time was this?” as if time were, at that stage of the inquiry, either important or interesting. There are many other questions equally unreal. The purpose of all of them is quite clear. They are plainly detective questions, devised to establish at the outset, as he had no doubt been instructed to establish, or as he knew by experience detectives are wont to establish, the identity of the girl Ross was talking about. There was to be left no room for misunderstanding, such as Brophy left in his bungled interview of the 16th.