He controlled himself by an effort--he was quiet and polite again when he next spoke to me. “Very well. Pardon me for a moment if I absorb myself in my own thoughts. I want to do something which I have not done yet.” “What may that be, Mr. Dexter?” “I am going to put myself into Mrs. Beauly’s skin, and to think with Mrs. Beauly’s mind. Give me a minute. Thank you.” What did he mean? what new transformation of him was passing before my eyes? Was there ever such a puzzle of a man as this? Who that saw him now, intently pursuing his new train of thought, would have recognized him as the childish creature who had awoke so innocently, and had astonished Benjamin by the infantine nonsense which he talked? It is said, and said truly, that there are many sides to every human character. Dexter’s many sides were developing themselves at such a rapid rate of progress that they were already beyond my counting. He lifted his head, and fixed a look of keen inquiry on me. “I have come out of Mrs. Beauly’s skin,” he announced. “And I have arrived at this result: We are two impetuous people; and we have been a little hasty in rushing at a conclusion.” He stopped. I said nothing. Was the shadow of a doubt of him beginning to rise in my mind? I waited, and listened. “I am as fully satisfied as ever of the truth of what Lady Clarinda told you,” he proceeded. “But I see, on consideration, what I failed to see at the time. The story admits of two interpretations--one on the surface, and another under the surface. I look under the surface, in your interests; and I say, it is just possible that Mrs. Beauly may have been cunning enough to forestall suspicion, and to set up an Alibi.” I am ashamed to own that I did not understand what he meant by the last word--Alibi. He saw that I was not following him, and spoke out more plainly. “Was the maid something more than her mistress’s passive accomplice?” he said. “Was she the Hand that her mistress used? Was she on her way to give the first dose of poison when she passed me in this corridor? Did Mrs. Beauly spend the night in Edinburgh--so as to have her defense ready, if suspicion fell upon her?” My shadowy doubt of him became substantial doubt when I heard that. Had I absolved him a little too readily? Was he really trying to renew my suspicions of Mrs. Beauly, as Mr. Playmore had foretold? This time I was obliged to answer him. In doing so, I unconsciously employed one of the phrases which the lawyer had used to me during my first interview with him. “That sounds rather far-fetched, Mr. Dexter,” I said. To my relief, he made no attempt to defend the new view that he had advanced.