The superintendent seldom indulged in so long a speech, but he was determined to force his adversary’s guard, and sought to win his confidence by describing the probable course to be pursued by the coroner’s inquest. But Grant, like the dead actress, had two sides to his nature. He was both an idealist and a stubborn fighter, and ideality had been shattered for many a day by that grewsome object hauled in that morning from the depths of the river. “I am willing to help in any shape or form, but can only repeat that Miss Melhuish and I parted as described. I should add that I have never, to my knowledge, met her husband.” “He may be dead.” “Possibly. You may know more about him than I.” “Even then, we have not traveled far as yet.” Fowler was puzzled, and did not hesitate to show it. He believed, not without reasonable cause, that this young man was concealing some element in the situation which might prove helpful in the quest for the murderer. He resolved to strike off along a new track. “I am informed,” he went on, speaking with a deliberateness meant to be impressive, “that you did entertain another lady as a visitor last night.” Grant allowed his glance to dwell on Robinson for an instant. Hitherto he had ignored the man. Now he surveyed him as if he were a viper. “It will be a peculiarly offensive thing if the personality of a helpless and unoffending girl is brought into this inquiry,” he cried. “‘Brought in’ is too mild—I ought to say ‘dragged in.’ As it happens, astronomy is one of my hobbies. Last evening, as the outcome of a chat on the subject, Doris Martin, daughter of the local postmaster, came here to view Sirius through an astronomical telescope. There is the instrument,” and he pointed through P. C. Robinson to a telescope on a tripod in a corner of the room. The gesture was eloquent. The burly policeman might have been a sheet of glass. “As you see, it is a solid article, not easily lifted about. It weighs nearly a hundred-weight.” “Why is it so heavy?” The superintendent had a knack of putting seemingly irrelevant questions. Robinson had been disconcerted by it earlier in the day, but Grant seemed to treat the interruption as a sensible one. “For observation purposes an astronomical telescope is not of much use unless the movement of the earth is counteracted,” he said. “Usually, the dome of an observatory swings on a specially contrived axis, but that is a very expensive structure, so my telescope is governed by a clockwork attachment and moves on its own axis.” Mr. Fowler nodded. He was really a very well informed man for a country police-officer; he understood clearly. “Miss Martin came here about a quarter to ten,” continued Grant, “and left within three-quarters of an hour. She did not enter the house. She was watching Sirius while I explained the methods whereby the distance of any star from the earth is computed and its chemical analysis determined—”