“I go a good deal by what you say, Mr. Bassett, and as to this meeting of which I’m convinced--whom it was with I don’t know. Williams here has made up his mind and worked out his case. I don’t agree with him. I believe Mrs. Stokes is telling the truth. What she says hangs together all right. I think her explanation of the passage of time when she was on the shore is entirely plausible. That she may know something is possible, but I don’t think she’s guilty.” “Then you must think it’s Stokes,” said Williams with some heat. “There’s nobody else it could be.” Rawson considered before he spoke: “I don’t see Stokes as deliberately murdering the woman he was in love with. That’s generally an act of impulse, sudden desperation. And there was no impulse here. Careful premeditation--the stealing of the revolver, luring her to this summer-house, the threats or rage when she got here that made her fly. It’s more like the working out of revenge than the act of blind passion. Stokes doesn’t look to me the kind of man that would kill so carefully. He’s too soft.” “Then who is it?” Williams exclaimed. “Somebody killed her.” Rawson moved toward the doorway: “That’s about all I’m willing to agree to at present. But I’d like to see Stokes again. He and his wife may know more than they say--I don’t deny _that_--but she’s got a better nerve than he has. We’ll get him into the library and have a whack at him.” XII BASSETT was detailed to find Stokes and bring him to the library. A summons from the director would have an air of informality which might put Stokes off his guard. Rawson did not communicate this to his messenger, but told Williams when they were alone. He had been watching Stokes and thought the man showed signs of strain. That morning at the beach Stokes’ manner and appearance had suggested a nerve tension which might rise from anxiety about his wife, but might also be the result of some knowledge he was struggling to withhold. Bassett found Flora and Shine on the balcony and heard that Stokes had gone to his room to try to get some sleep. He knocked on the door and to a gruff “Come in” entered to find Stokes lying on the bed. He rose quickly, exhibiting the same alacrity his wife had shown earlier in the day. “Of course,” he said. “I’m ready to come whenever they want me. In fact I’ve been lying here expecting it, going back over last evening, trying to think of anything I may have overlooked that might help them.”