What reply could I give? Could I tell her that the Professor, her father, had been cruelly done to death, and his body cremated in his own experimental furnace? Had I not given my word of honour to that weird will-o'-the-wisp, Kershaw Kirk, that I would preserve silence? Besides, my only thought was for my own dear wife, whose face now rose ever before me. "Well," I stammered. "I--well--I believed that you were unaware of his whereabouts, Miss Greer. At least, I understood so from your father's butler, Antonio." She smiled, regarding me quite calmly. She was either in ignorance of what had occurred, or else she was a most perfect actress. Yet how could she feign ignorance? Had not Kirk told me that she had thrown herself upon her knees before her father's body, vowing a fierce, bitter vengeance upon his assassin? Perhaps Kirk had lied, of course, yet I recollected that the discovery had been made while the dead man's daughter was in the house, and that after the astounding incident she had removed with Morgan, her maid, to Lady Mellor's, while the other servants--unaware of what had occurred--had either been sent away down to Broadstairs, or else discharged. In secret, this handsome girl before me--the girl with that perfect dimpled face and innocent blue eyes--had returned, and we had found her lying apparently dead in the dining-room. Ethelwynn's present attitude of pretended ignorance of her father's fate struck me as both amazing and culpable. "You say that the Professor was in Strassburg?" I said. "Is he still there?" "As far as I know," she replied, twisting her rings nervously around her thin white finger. "Could I telegraph to him?" I ventured to suggest. "Certainly, if you have business with him," she responded. "I'll go and get the address." And she swiftly left the room, leaving on the air a sweet breath of violets, a bunch of which she wore in her belt. A few minutes later she returned with a letter in her hand. "His address is Kronenburger Strasse, number fifteen," she exclaimed. "Do you know Strassburg? It's just at the corner, by the bridge over the canal." "I have never been in Strassburg," was my reply. "But I have important business with the Professor, so, with your permission, I will telegraph to him from here." "Most certainly," she said. "He tells me that his affairs are likely to keep him abroad for a considerable time. But--" and she paused. At last she added: "I have never heard him speak of you as a friend, Mr.-- Mr. Holford." "Perhaps not," I said quickly. "The fact is, I'm a confidential friend of his, as well as of Mr. Kershaw Kirk." "A friend of Mr. Kirk!" she cried, staring at me with a startled expression, half of fear and half of surprise. "Yes," I said. "I believe Mr. Kirk is an intimate friend both of your father and yourself. Is not that so?"