“I’ll do the best I can, sir,” said the man, jovially, rubbing his hands together, as if he regarded the whole affair as a huge joke. “As Mr. Codey may have told you, I have unravelled pretty tangled skeins in my day, and it won’t be my fault if I don’t do the same here. Now, sir, Mr. Codey, who knows my ways of work, has given me an outline of the case, but if you don’t mind, I should like to put a few questions to you on my own account.” “Ask me whatever you please,” said Godfrey, “and I will answer to the best of my ability.” Burrell seated himself opposite Godfrey, placed one enormous hand on either knee, and looked the other full in the face. “Now, sir, in the first place, when you had your old studio in London, before you inherited your present estate, and when you first engaged the girl, can you remember who were your intimate friends? I mean, the friends who were in the habit of dropping into your studio pretty frequently, to smoke their pipes, and perhaps to take a friendly glass?” Godfrey considered for a moment. “I had not very many friends in those days,” he answered at last. “I was a hard worker, and for that reason didn’t encourage men to waste my time. Besides, I was only a struggling artist, and couldn’t afford to entertain very much.” “But there must have been some men who came in. Think, sir, and try to recollect. It’s an important point.” “Well, of course, there was my friend, Mr. Fensden, who practically lived with me. He used my studio whenever he had anything to do.” “He is the gentleman who gave the damaging evidence against you on Monday, is he not?” “He is! Then there was a Mr. Bourke, a leader writer on the Daily Record.” “I know Mr. Bourke,” said the detective. “We may dismiss him from the case at once.” “Then there was an artist named Halliday, who occasionally dropped in, but he is now in Dresden.” “When did he go?” “Nearly two months before I went abroad myself,” Godfrey answered. “I think I have given you the list of my friends. I can remember no more.” “Now, sir, that box, in which the hands were sent, had you ever seen it before?” “No,” said Godfrey; “I am quite certain I had not.” “When you came home from Egypt, did you make any purchases in Naples?” “None at all. I was only there one night.” “Now, sir, I am given to understand that your friend, Mr. Fensden, induced you to go abroad for the reason that he feared you were falling in love with your model. On what sort of terms was Mr. Fensden himself with the girl in question?” “On very friendly terms,” said Godfrey. “Was he in love with her, do you think?” “I am certain he was not,” Godfrey replied, shaking his head. “I do not think he would ever be in love with anybody.” “And you are quite sure that he saw nothing of the girl from the day he bade her good-bye in your studio, until Monday, when he inspected her dead body in the mortuary?” “I am sure of it,” Godfrey answered.