"Well, not much, I confess. I was in such a hurry to hear whether anything had been heard of Mrs. Atkins or not that I only gulped down a cup of coffee before coming here." "You must have something at once," I urged. "Here's some beefsteak and I'll ring for the boy to----" "Hold on a moment. Are you very sure the hatchet is buried?" he inquired, with a quizzical smile. "For the time being, certainly," I laughed. "But I reserve the right of digging it up again unless things turn out as I wish them to." A sad look came over his face. "Ah, Doctor, things so rarely do turn out just as one wishes them to!" "And now, Merritt," I demanded, when, breakfast being over, we had lighted our cigars, "will you kindly tell me what made you talk as you did yesterday to Miss Derwent?" "I had a purpose." "What possible good could it do to remind Miss Derwent of an incident which all her friends are most anxious to have her forget?" "It may do no good." "Do you think you have the right to harrow a delicate girl unnecessarily?" "Have a little patience, Doctor; I am not a brute!" "And to talk of Mrs. Atkins as you did! Don't you know that her husband especially wishes to keep her flight secret?" "I know. But Miss Derwent is no gossip." "How do you know?" "Hold on, Doctor; I'm not in the witness box yet. Can't you wait a day or two?" A commotion in the hall put an end to our conversation. Merritt and I looked at each other. Could that be Atkins's voice which we heard? Indeed it was; and the next minute the man himself appeared, beaming with happiness, and tenderly supporting his wife. Pale and dishevelled, staggering slightly as she walked, she was but the wreck of her former self. Her husband laid her on a divan and, kneeling down beside her, murmured indistinguishable words of remorse and love. She lay quite still, her eyes closed, her breath coming in short gasps. I rushed off for some brandy, which I forced down her throat. That revived her, and she looked about her. When her eyes fell on the detective, she cried aloud and tried to struggle to her feet, but her husband put his arm around her and pulled her down again. "Don't be afraid of him. He's all right." "Really?" She seemed but half reassured. "You can trust me, I promise you," said the detective. "We are all quite sure you had nothing to do with the man's death. Only we must find out who he was, and when and how he left you. If you will tell us all that occurred, it may help us to discover the criminal." "Did you know, Larrie, that the man came to the building to see me?" Atkins nodded. "And you are not angry?" "No, indeed! Tell us all about it." "Oh, I will, I will! I could never be real happy with a secret between us." She paused a moment. "Well, his name was Allan Brown, and years and years ago, when I was nothing but a silly girl, I fancied myself in love with him, and--and--I married him."