“She’s not mad in that sort of way,” said Goddard, “although she is mad.” “I see,” said the R. M.; “temper. It’s not a breach of promise case, is it, Goddard?” “Nothing of the sort. I never set eyes on her in my life till yesterday. In fact, she’s engaged to quite another man.” “I see,” said the R. M. doubtfully. “The fact is,” said Goddard, “she has a theory that there has been a murder over at Clonmore. There hasn’t, of course; but she thinks there has--and--well, the fact is, I promised to investigate it. She cried, you know, and that sort of thing. The whole business is utterly absurd from start to finish.” “And what do you propose to do now?” “I don’t know. Perhaps she’ll go away when she gets the message about my being on leave. I shall stay here till after dark, anyhow, and then sneak down to the house and find out what’s happened.” “I think,” said Captain Fielding, “that I’ll stay with you. I’d rather like to see this business through. Besides, when she finds she can’t get you she’ll probably go up to my house for me.” Miss Blow received the message from Mr. Goddard’s housekeeper with open incredulity. “I shall wait here,” she said, “until Mr. Goddard comes home.” The servant was in a difficult position. She recognized Miss Blow as the lady to whom she had given tea the day before, who had driven off, apparently on the most friendly terms, with Mr. Goddard. It was plainly impossible to slam the door as doors are slammed in the faces of drunken tramps. She was a woman of kindly disposition. She saw that Miss Blow was dusty, tired, in need of rest and refreshment. Her natural impulse was to be hospitable. At the same time she had no doubt as to what Mr. Goddard’s wishes were with regard to this particular visitor. She was a woman of intelligence, and she realized that the message delivered by Captain Fielding was urgent and important. She hesitated, standing in the middle of the doorway. Miss Blow put an end to all uncertainty by walking past her into the house, opening the dining-room door, entering the room, and sitting down. Mr. Goddard’s housekeeper retired to the kitchen and meditated on the situation. It was plainly impossible to remove Miss Blow without the use of actual force. At seven o’clock pity triumphed over her sense of duty to her master. She made some tea and took it in to Miss Blow on a tray. At eight o’clock a police constable came to the door and asked to see Mr. Goddard. He refused to believe that the District Inspector had gone on leave. The housekeeper, despairing of anything except the actual truth, confessed that there was a young lady in the house, and gave it as her opinion that Mr. Goddard was afraid to meet her. The constable disappeared, grinning. The housekeeper was uneasily conscious that he was putting a wrong meaning into the fact of Miss Blow’s presence in the house.