On learning this latter fact, Haskins at once demanded admission, so that he might interview Morgan. When Rebb came, he knew well that it would not be possible to meddle with the case, as the Major would insist that he had nothing to do with it. But, in order to discover any evidence that might be suppressed by Rebb--should he or Geary be guilty--Haskins made up his mind to examine as much into the matter on the spot as would be permitted to him. After sending in his request he received a reply in a few minutes, and this led to his being conducted by a young constable through the jealously guarded gates, and into the presence of the inspector. Morgan was standing on the lawn, drawing a plan of the grounds, and several policemen were beating about the long grass, searching for something. "Have they found the knife?" asked Gerald, coming up swiftly. Morgan looked at him keenly. He was a tall and burly man, with a red face and white hair, apparently easygoing and tolerant, who would not be difficult to manage if treated diplomatically. Nevertheless he resented Haskins' abrupt question with stiff official dignity. "May I ask who you are, sir?" he demanded. Gerald pointed to the card which the inspector held. "My name is there, Mr. Inspector. I came here because I am interested in the case." "On what grounds? For what reason?" questioned Morgan, still stiffly. Haskins did not hesitate. On the way hither he had resolved to be absolutely frank, if frankness were necessary. To deliver Mavis from her dangerous position he would have to give some reason for championing her, and--having regard to the searching examinations of the law--he deemed it best to tell the absolute truth. If he did not, Rebb might possibly make some use of his knowledge of the secret visits to get him into trouble. He therefore cast his bombshell boldly. "I am engaged to marry Miss Durham," he stated slowly. Morgan, in spite of official phlegm, dropped his pocketbook in sheer amazement, and two constables, who overheard, looked round with expressions of blank astonishment. "What do you mean, sir?" stuttered the inspector, growing redder than ever. "Are you making a fool of me? Miss Durham was mad: she could not be engaged to anyone." "Miss Durham was perfectly sane, as I am prepared to swear, and to prove my belief in her sanity I am willing to make her my wife." "A murderess?" "She is not a murderess. Whomsoever killed that unfortunate Bellaria Dondi, the poor girl who was shut up here is at least innocent." "Dear! dear! dear!" Morgan scratched his head, and looked bewildered. "I never came across anything so extraordinary in my life. If Miss Durham was shut up here--and everyone knows that she was strictly guarded on account of her mania--how came you to see her?"