“He had very fine written recommendations, but from people I did not know, and too far away to inquire of. I took him on trial.” “He seemed honest and faithful?” “He seemed so—but he was silent and moody—a man one could scarcely understand.” “Can you imagine his killing his master—granting the opportunity?” Mrs. Peyton considered. “I can imagine it,” she said, “but I shouldn’t like to say I would suspect him of it. He was soft-footed, and went about with a sort of stealthy manner, but I’m not prepared to say he was wrong in any way.” “Call in Ito, the other one.” Ito came, and stood stolidly by. His impassive demeanor was not unlike that of Gordon Lockwood. Waring had sometimes remarked this in a chaffing way to his secretary. “You knew this Nogi?” asked Morton. “Only since he came here,” answered the butler, in perfect English. “You liked him?” “Neither yes nor no. He knew little of his duties, but he was willing to learn. He was respectful to me, and friendly enough. I had no reason to dislike him.” Morton didn’t seem to get anywhere with this man. “Well, what do you think of his character?” he said. “Would you say he was capable of killing his employer?” “All men are capable of crime,” said the Jap, in a low, even voice, “but he could not kill Doctor Waring and go away leaving the study locked on the inside.” “Why did he go away, then?” “That I do not know. It may be he tired of the place here.” “But there was money due him.” “Yes; that makes it hard to understand.” Morton had an uncomfortable feeling that the Japanese was scornful of him, and, worse still, that the other listeners were also. “You may go,” he told Ito, and then, turning to Lockwood, he said, a little belligerently, “Who is in charge here? To whom do I make my report?” The question was like a bombshell. All were silent, until Mrs. Bates said, “I suppose I am what might be called in charge. You may report to me.” “To you, ma’am?” Morton was, clearly, surprised. “Yes; as Doctor Waring’s affianced wife, and as his heir, I feel I am in authority. And also, I wish all reports made to me, as I am the one most deeply interested in learning the identity of the murderer.” “If he was murdered,” supplemented Mrs. Bates. And Mrs. Peyton broke in, “You needn’t think, Mr. Morton, that there’s such a thing as a secret entrance or secret passage in this house, for I know there is not.” “Yet there are other theories, other possibilities,” the detective said, his air a little less important than it had been. “Suppose, now, that Nogi had robbed and murdered his master, when he carried in the water tray. Just suppose that, and suppose that, with his Japanese cunning he had devised a way to lock the door behind him—or, say, he had gone out by the glass door, and had locked that behind him.” “How?” cried Pinckney, his eyes wide with excitement.