“I demand,” she said, “that the police should investigate a case of murder, and they refuse to do so.” Mr. Goddard, for the first time, took a good look at her. He realized at once that she was an extremely handsome girl. Even so it seemed improbable that any one would murder a dispensary doctor well known to be very popular. “Murder,” he said tentatively, “is perhaps too strong a word.” “Lord Manton agrees with me,” said Miss Blow, “that he has been murdered.” She took Lord Manton’s note from her pocket and handed it to Mr. Goddard. He read it, reread it, and then turned inquiringly to the constable. Moriarty reluctantly admitted that Lord Manton’s words might bear the interpretation which Miss Blow put on them. “Then why on earth did you not investigate the matter?” said Mr. Goddard. Constable Moriarty became very confused. With Miss Blow’s fine eyes fixed on him he could not bring himself to blurt out the naked truth. He was as unwilling as everybody else had been to break the heart of a beautiful girl by saying that her lover had basely deserted her. “It could be,” he said feebly, “that the doctor’s alive and well yet.” This was very much Mr. Goddard’s own opinion. He read Lord Manton’s note again, and then turned to Miss Blow. “I am very sorry,” he said, “that you should have been put to so much trouble and inconvenience. I hope I am not tiring you too much, but would you mind telling me what reasons you have for supposing that Dr. O’Grady has been murdered?” Miss Blow’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. She caught at her skirt with both hands, clenching the folds of it tightly. “We were to have been married this year,” she said, “and oh----” Then, fumbling hurriedly for her pocket-handkerchief, she burst into a flood of tears. There was every excuse for her. She had been driven to the belief that her lover was murdered. She had gone through three trying days, the last two of them very trying. She was a stranger among people who seemed heartless and cruel to an extraordinary degree. She had every right to an outbreak of hysterical weeping. Yet it should be noted to her credit that she chose as the witness of her breakdown the man, of all those whom she had met, most likely to be influenced by tears. Lord Manton, if she had wept in his study, would have comforted her; but he would also have enjoyed his task and would have appreciated the appearance of her slobbered cheeks. Sergeant Farrelly would have sympathized with her if she had wept in the police barrack, but he would not have gone out to search for Dr. O’Grady’s body merely because she made a sponge of her pocket-handkerchief. Mr. Goddard was different. He was young, and though he had a sense of humour, the sight of a beautiful girl shaken with sobs embarrassed him.