Paul valued his friendship with Miss Link, as he was ambitious and she sympathised with his aims and aspirations. He wished to make a name in London as a novelist, to live in the metropolis, and to mix with the literary society of the day. To Iris he told all his dreams and schemes and successes and failures; and in her turn Iris consulted him about her domestic worries, the eccentricities of Dr. Lester, and the trials she experienced with Milly and her lovers. Paul, therefore, was well acquainted with the events which had preceded the tragedy; and now that the tragedy itself had taken place he was hardly surprised by its occurrence. "I knew Milly would get herself into trouble, poor girl!" he thought on hearing the news; "but I hardly expected her follies would result in her murder. I wonder who killed her, and what was the motive for the crime? By Jove! I'll ride over and see Iris; she needs a friend just now, and she can give me all details for the paper." No sooner had Paul made up his mind to this course than he saw the editor, and requested permission to go over to Barnstead. It was accorded at once, and, knowing Mexton's ready pen, the editor anticipated an unusually interesting account of the crime, to be in the next day's issue of the "Tory Times." Prompt and rapid in his actions as a war correspondent, Paul was on the road to Barnstead within an hour of receiving the intelligence of the murder. But the police, advised by telegram, were beforehand with him, and he found the inspector--Drek was his name--investigating the matter when he arrived at Poverty Villa. Drek was in the untidy garden talking to a policeman when Paul rode up, and he eyed the young man in anything but a pleasant manner when he dismounted. The inspector was an alert but somewhat sour man, who had no great love for press or pressman; and he distinctly resented the prompt arrival of Mexton on the scene. With a frown he looked at the keen and handsome face of the young man, and nodded curtly in response to his greeting. "Where the corpse is there gather the vultures," said Drek, who dealt at times in proverbs. "Are you talking of the police, Mr. Inspector?" asked Paul, smiling. "No, sir; I talk of the Fourth Estate, of you confounded gabblers of the press. It is my business to investigate crimes like these; but it is not yours to spread any discoveries all over the country, and put the criminal on his guard." "Oh! then you have some inkling of who killed Miss Lester?" "No, sir; up till now I have not gained the slightest clue." "Then why do you say that the criminal is a man?" said Paul shrewdly. "The assassin may be a woman, for all you know." "Women don't fire pistols as a rule." "The New Woman does," retorted Mexton. "So the poor girl was shot?" "Right through the brain--must have been killed instantly." "Where did the murder take place?" "In the lower part of the Winding Lane." "About what time?"