'Yes--perfectly. I left the office about five. I walked straight home.--No--no--that isn't right. It was nearly eight when I got home. I remember. The dinner was spoiled.--No--I did not go straight home.' 'Perhaps you stayed here till past seven?' 'No--no. I remember looking at the clock as I put on my hat. It was half-past five when I went out-- Five. What did I do between half-past five o'clock and eight? I forget. You see, my trouble, Elsie--I forget. Perhaps I went to the Club: perhaps I strolled about: perhaps I came back here. There are three hours to account for--and I have forgotten them all.' CHAPTER XXV WILL HE REMEMBER? Should she tell him? She could not. The way must somehow be prepared. No--she could not tell him just so--in cold blood. How would he look if she were to begin: 'I have found out the mystery. You are Edmund Gray. During the hours that you cannot recall, you are playing the part of a Socialist teacher and leader: you are actively propagating the doctrines that you hold to be dangerous and misleading'? What would he say? What would he feel when he realised the truth? On the table lay a copy of the _Times_--a fortnight-old copy--open at the place where there was a certain letter from a certain Edmund Gray. Elsie pointed to it. Mr. Dering sighed. 'Again,' he said, 'they persecute me. Now it is a letter addressed to Edmund Gray, lying on my table: now it is the bill of a pernicious lecture by Edmund Gray: to-day it is this paper with the letter that appeared a week or two ago. Who brought it here? Checkley says he didn't. Who put it on my table?' Elsie made no reply. It was useless to test her former theory of the boy under the table.