"What do you mean by saying she wasn't the right wife for him, Bates?" broke in the doctor, moving toward the bed, where he began removing a sheet with which to cover the body until an undertaker could be summoned. "She had good looks, but she wasn't his kind," Bates replied. "She'd managed to climb up in the world--most likely from pretty near the bottom. A servant can usually tell, sir, from watching them at table, and a letter came--day before yesterday, I believe it was--a most disreputable-looking letter it was, sir, to be received at Greenacres, all smudgy and dirty. It gave her a shock, too, although she tried to pass it off casual." "What the servants don't know!" murmured the doctor under his breath, and then added, aloud: "You think there may have been some connection between the letter and the murder?" "As to that, I couldn't say, Doctor Bushnell, but she was much agitated, it seemed to me. I would say that it must have been written by some very low person, a most peculiar sort of a missive for Mr. Kirklan's wife to be getting." "All these little scraps of information may prove valuable, Bates," the doctor said meditatively. "You were pretty sharp on naming it murder. Perhaps you have some theory as to who killed her." Bates looked crestfallen; his slender stock of theory was completely exhausted, and then he brightened. "Finger prints!" he exclaimed. "Perhaps the murderer's finger prints are on the gun." He made a move to pick up the weapon, but the doctor stopped him with a gesture. "Better not," he warned. "I understand it's such a simple matter to destroy a delicate thing like a finger print. We'd better leave that for more practiced talents than ours; I'm afraid that all finger prints look alike to both of us." "It wasn't robbery, sir," offered the butler. "She is still wearing some jewelry." "Yes, I'd noticed that. There are no back stairs, Bates?" "There are none." "In that case, Bates, it hardly seems likely that the slayer could have fled from the second floor without you or Kirklan seeing him. That probably means that the murderer is still in the house. That would not give us a very large list, eh?" The butler's eyes widened. "You mean, sir," he whispered tensely, "that you think Mr. Sarbella could----" "I mentioned no names, Bates. Sarbella--is that the man I saw in the hall when I arrived?" "Yes, sir, that's him; he's a friend of Mr. Kirklan's, a guest who came out only this afternoon--yesterday afternoon it is now, speaking precise. He's some kind of an artist, I believe. I guess he's an Italian, sir. I don't want to go around accusing any one, Doctor Bushnell, but----" "But what, Bates? This talk is strictly between ourselves."