“You will oblige me by contradicting the statement. Or—no. One treats that sort of man with contempt.” “I agree with you most heartily. I’m sorry I ever mentioned him.” Yet Doris was well aware that the chemist had dragged in Elkin by the scruff of the neck, probably for the sake of getting him disposed of thoroughly and for all time. Rather on the tiptoe of expectation, she awaited the next move. It was slow in coming, so again she looked wistfully at the distant tea-drinkers. She found slight difficulty in carrying out this portion of the stage directions. Truth to tell, she would gleefully have gone and joined them. Siddle was not altogether at ease. The conversation was too spasmodic to suit his purpose. Though slow of speech he was nimble of brain, and, knowing Doris so well, he had anticipated a livelier duel of wits. In all likelihood, he cursed the tea-party on the lawn. He had not foreseen this drawback. But, being a masterful man, he tackled the situation boldly. “I seized the opportunity of a friendly chat with you to-day, Doris,” he went on, leaning over the fence to inhale the scent of a briar rose. “The story runs through the village that you and your father dined at The Hollies on Friday evening. Is that true?” Now, Doris had it on reliable authority that Siddle himself had been the runner who spread that story, and the knowledge steeled her heart against him. “Yes,” she said composedly. “It was kind and neighborly of you to accept the invitation, but a mistake.” She turned and faced him. His expression was baffling. She thought she saw in his sallow, clean-cut features the shadow of a confident smile. “You mean that this horrid murder should make some difference in the friendship between ourselves and Mr. Grant?” she cried. “Yes. To you, though to no one else would I speak so plainly, I have no hesitation in saying that Mr. Grant is far, very far, from being clear of responsibility in that matter. Three days from now you will understand what I mean. Evidence will be forthcoming which will put him in a most unenviable light. I am not alleging, or even hinting, that he may be deemed guilty of actual crime. That is for the law to determine. But I do tell you emphatically that his present heedless attitude will give place to anxiety and dejection. It cannot be otherwise. A somewhat sordid history will be revealed, and his pretense that relations between him and the dead woman ceased three years ago will vanish into thin air. Believe me, Doris, I am actuated by no motive in this matter other than a desire to further your welfare. I cannot bear even to think of your name being associated, in ever so small degree, with that of a man who must be hounded out of his own social circle, if no worse fate is in store for him.” “Good gracious!” cried Doris, genuinely amazed. “How do you come to know all this?”