"Has the hat been found?" I heard her inquire, and her high soprano voice had again that peculiar grating quality I had noticed during her interview with the Coroner. "Yes," I answered, "it was found in Argot's possession. He actually wore it, and laid it down under my nose. Insanity can go no further." "But how did you know it was the missing hat?" demanded Atkins, without taking his eyes off his wife. What could I answer? I was appalled at the dilemma into which my vanity and stupidity had led me. "I suspected it was the hat which was wanted," I blundered on, "because Mr. Merritt had told me he was looking for an ordinary white straw containing the name of a Chicago hatter. Argot's hat answered to this description, and, as the Frenchman had never been West, I concluded that he had not got it by fair means." "So the dead man hailed from Chicago, did he?" inquired Atkins. "The detective thinks so," I answered. "Have the police discovered his name yet?" "I--I am not sure!" "You are discreet, I see." "Indeed, no," I assured him. "The last time I saw Mr. Merritt he was still in doubt as to the man's real name." "He only knew that the initials were A. B.," said Atkins, quickly. I glanced, rapidly, from the husband to the wife. They sat, facing each other, unflinchingly, like two antagonists of mettle, their faces drawn and set. But the strain proved too much for the woman, and, in another moment, she would have fallen to the floor if I had not managed to catch her. Instead of assisting me, her husband sat quite still, wiping great beads of perspiration from his forehead. "Come here," I said, "and help me to carry your wife to the window." He got up, as if dazed, and came slowly toward me, and, together, we carried her to a lounge in the drawing-room. "Look here, you told me yourself that all mention of the murder made your wife extremely nervous, and yet you distinctly encouraged us to talk about it this evening. Do you think that right?" He stared at me with unseeing eyes, and appeared not to understand what I was saying. "I had to find out the truth," he muttered. "Look here, man," I cried, shaking him by the arm, "pull yourself together. Don't let your wife see that expression on your face when she comes to. This is not a simple faint; your wife's heart is affected, and if you excite her still further you may kill her." That roused him, and he now joined to the best of his ability in my endeavors to restore her. She soon opened her eyes, and glanced timidly at her husband. He managed to smile affectionately at her, which seemed to reassure her. "How stupid of me to faint!" she exclaimed, "but it was so very hot." "Yes, the heat is dreadful; you really should not overtax yourself during this weather," said her husband, gently, laying his hand on hers. She beamed at him, while a lovely pink overspread her pale face. "As a doctor, may I urge Mrs. Atkins to go to bed immediately?" I said.