“Come,” he beckoned, his heart expanding, his depression lightened, and as she disappeared he pulled up a chair for her. She came in, soft-footed across the rugs, with the whispering words: “I couldn’t rest till I’d seen you and heard. He’s told?” “Everything.” They sat, facing each other, close together. “It’s solved and ended--the Gull Island murder.” “Is it all right for you to tell me?” It was all right and he told her. She listened absorbed, eyes intent on his, now and then nodding her head in confirmation of an agreement in her own mind. When he had finished, she sat looking down, apparently lost in musing contemplation of the story. “So, as it turns out, Anne dearest, all that misery you and I went through was unnecessary.” “Yes,” she said slowly. “It wasn’t Joe, he wasn’t in it at all. But I don’t understand. I’ve been sitting in my room while you were with Stokes thinking about it and I can’t make it out. Hugh”--she leaned forward and rested her hand on his knee, dropping her voice though no one was there to hear--“this is what I can’t explain--_whom_ did I see in here last night?” Bassett’s answer was prompt, delivered in the brisk tone of common sense: “I can. It’s very simple. You didn’t see anybody.” “Nobody?” “Nobody. I’ve been thinking about it, too. There’s only one explanation, and that’s it.” She looked beyond him at the lamp, her eyebrows drawn in a puzzled frown: “You think I imagined it?” “I know you did. Just consider:--You were in a wrought-up condition, you expected to see him, came down for that purpose. The room was almost dark, quite dark under the gallery where you say he came from. After what you’d gone through--first a murder, then a suspicion that would have undermined the strongest nerves--you were in a state to see anything.” She continued to stare at the light, her face set in troubled thought. “I suppose that could be.” “Why, Anne dear, it must have been, it could have happened to any one. And there’s another point--if it had been Joe, wouldn’t he have spoken to you, one question even to find out what was going on, what we were doing?” “Yes, yes. I’ve thought of that. It didn’t occur to me at the time. But he would have said something.” “Of course he would. You never saw anything more substantial than a shadow in the moonlight.” “That must be it,” she murmured. “I ought to have realized it but I was stampeded myself. We were all ready to go off like a pack of fire-crackers. God”--he took her hand and held its soft coldness against his forehead--“its a wonder we didn’t all break to pieces like Stokes.” She was silent for a moment then said: “Well, where _is_ Joe? What’s he doing?”