Luckily, the ladies were also late, so that I had ample time before they turned up to describe May's symptoms, and to give him a hurried account of what we knew of her experiences at the Rosemere. When she at last appeared, very pale, but looking lovelier than ever, in a trailing blue gown, I saw that he was much impressed by her. Her manner was languid rather than nervous, and she greeted us both with quiet dignity. Notwithstanding the object of the lunch, it passed off very pleasantly, and I am sure no one could have guessed from our behaviour that it was not a purely social occasion. Doctor Storrs especially was wonderful, and was soon chatting and laughing with May as if he had known her all her life. After lunch, Mrs. Derwent and I retired to a distant corner. The Doctor led the young lady to a window seat, and I was glad to see that they were soon talking earnestly to each other. I didn't dare to watch them, for fear she might suspect that we had arranged this interview. Doctor Storrs kept her there almost an hour, and when they at last joined us she looked quite ghastly, and her mouth quivered pathetically. As we stood in the hall, waiting for the ladies' sunshades to be brought, I was astonished and annoyed to see Merritt coming towards us. He caught Miss Derwent's eye and bowed. She smiled and bowed in return, which encouraged him to join us. "How do you do? I trust you are well," he stammered. He seemed quite painfully embarrassed, which surprised me, as I should never have thought him capable of shyness. "Quite well, thank you," she answered, graciously, evidently pitying his confusion. "That was a dreadful affair at the Rosemere," he bungled on, twisting his hat nervously round and round. She drew herself up. "I suppose the Doctor has told you the latest development of that affair?" he plunged on, regardless of her stiffness. I stared at him in surprise; what was the matter with the man? "No," she answered, looking anxiously at me. "Well, he's discreet; you see we don't want it to get into the papers--" he paused, as if waiting to be questioned. "What has happened?" struggled through her ashen lips. "I don't know if you know Mrs. Atkins," he went on, more glibly; "she's a young bride, who has an apartment at the Rosemere." She shook her head impatiently. "Well, this lady has disappeared," he went on, lowering his voice; "and we very much fear that she has fled because she knew more about that murder than she should have done." Miss Derwent tottered, and steadied herself against a table, but Mr. Merritt, with surprising denseness, failed to notice her agitation, and continued: