“Most instructive, I’m sure,” put in the superintendent. He smiled genially, so genially that Grant dismissed the notion that the other might, in vulgar parlance, be pulling his leg. “Well, that is the be-all and end-all of Miss Martin’s presence. It would be cruel, and unfair, if a girl of her age were forced into a distasteful prominence in connection with a crime with which she is no more related than with Sirius itself.” The older man shook his head in regretful dissent. “That is just where you and I differ,” he said. “That very point leads us back to your past friendship with the dead woman.” “Why?” “Surely you see, Mr. Grant, that Miss Melhuish might be, probably was, watching your star-gazing, especially as your pupil chanced to be, shall I say, a remarkably attractive young lady ... No, no,” for Grant’s anger was unmistakable—“It does no good to blaze out in protest. An unhappy combination of circumstances must be faced candidly. Here are you and a pretty girl together in a garden at a rather late hour, and a woman whom you once wanted to marry spying on you, in all likelihood. I’ve met a few coroner’s juries in my time, and not one of them but would deem the coincidence strange, to put it mildly.” “What in Heaven’s name are you driving at?” “You must not impute motives, sir. I am seeking them, not supplying them.” “But what am I to say?” “Perhaps you will now tell me just how Miss Melhuish and you parted.” The fencers were coming to close quarters. Even P. C. Robinson had to admit that his “boss” had cornered the suspect rather cleverly. Grant realized that there was no room for squeamishness in this affair. If he did not speak out now, his motives might be woefully misunderstood. “We parted in wrath and tears,” he said sadly. “Miss Melhuish could not, or did not, appreciate my scruples. She professed to be in love with me. She even went so far as to threaten suicide. I—hardly believed in her sincerity, but thought it advisable to temporize, and asked for a few days’ delay before we came to a final decision. We met again, as I have said, and discussed matters in calmer mood. Ultimately, she professed agreement with my point of view, and we parted, ostensibly to remain good friends, but really to separate for ever.” “Thank you. That’s better. What _was_ your point of view, Mr. Grant?” “Surely I have made it clear. I could not regard my wife as purchasable. The proposed compact was, I believe, illegal. But that consideration did not sway me. I had been dreaming, and thought I was roaming in an enchanted garden. I awoke, and found myself in a morass.” The superintendent nodded again. Singularly enough, Grant’s somewhat high-flown simile appeared to satisfy his craving for light. “Do you mind telling me—is there another woman?” he demanded, with one of those rapid transitions of topic in which he excelled. “No,” said Grant.