"Because one of the assistants of Madame Coralie--the blind girl, whose sense of smell is abnormal--scented the peaty fragrance of Harris tweed in the lower passage about the time Lady Branwin was murdered, or, at least, one hour later." "Oh, indeed," said Miss Pearl, coolly. "Then you think that I wore this dress and went downstairs to murder Lady Branwin so that I could marry--" "No, no! I don't mean that. I said that Parizade smelt the perfume an hour afterwards. You say that you did not wear the dress; but Sir Joseph always, when in tweeds, prefers the Harris cloth." "Was he in the house?" asked Miss Pearl, bewildered. "That is what I wish you to tell me." "I can't." She rose like an offended goddess. "And if he was, I certainly should not tell you, Mr. Shawe. If Sir Joseph knew that you dared to accuse him of murder--" "He knows what I have told you, Miss Pearl, and knows also that I do not accuse him directly of murder. But someone wearing Harris tweed was in the lower passage. You deny wearing this dress, and as Sir Joseph is partial to the cloth I conclude that he was lurking in the house. He was certainly seen in the lane by Mrs. Mellop." "I think," said Miss Pearl, frigidly, "that you had better tell this story to Sir Joseph himself. I cannot assist you. I was asleep in the upstairs room all the evening, and I know nothing, as I told Inspector Lanton. As he is satisfied, I do not see why you should not be." "Of course, I take your word, but--" "There is no 'but' about it," interrupted the dancer, imperiously, and Ralph found himself thinking what a beautiful creature she was. "My mother always taught me never to tell a lie. And if you think that I know anything of the crime, Mr. Shawe, I shall prove my sincerity and ignorance by refusing to marry Sir Joseph Branwin. Good-day," and she walked out of the room, in as stately a manner as she had entered. "I wonder," murmured Ralph, leaving the house, "if she's a born liar, or if she is really and truly telling the truth?" CHAPTER XXI THE MARRIAGE It certainly was not an easy task to come to a conclusion about Miss Pearl. Ralph took her for a beautiful, amiable, stupid woman, narrowed by her early training into a perfect specimen of what a wife should be--that is, a wife to an ordinary British Philistine. But Sir Joseph was not a prim, conventional man after the style of a suburban clerk, but a clever individual who knew how to use his brains. He might certainly admire Miss Pearl for her calm maternal beauty, but Shawe was satisfied that he could not possibly tolerate such a milk-and-water character. Miss Pearl was more suitable to be the wife of a Sunday-school teacher than the second Lady Branwin.