"Our verdict is that the deceased was wilfully murdered by some person or persons unknown." "Very well, gentlemen. Of course in my position I am not permitted to give you advice, but I think that you could have arrived at no other verdict. The police will use every endeavour to discover the identity of the assassin." I glanced at Ethelwynn, and at that instant she turned her head, and her eyes met mine. She started quickly, her face blanched to the lips; then she rose unsteadily, and with the crowd went slowly out. Ambler Jevons, who had been seated at the opposite side of the room, got up and rushed away; therefore I had no chance to get a word with him. He had glanced at me significantly, and I knew well what passed through his mind. Like myself, he was thinking of that strange letter we had found among the dead man's effects and had agreed to destroy. About nine o'clock that same night I had left Sir Bernard's and was strolling slowly round to my rooms, when my friend's cheery voice sounded behind me. He was on his way to have a smoke with me as usual, he explained. So we entered together, and after I had turned up the light and brought out the drinks he flung himself into his habitual chair, and stretching himself wearily said-- "The affair becomes more mysterious hourly." "How?" I inquired quickly. "I've been down to Kew this afternoon," was his rather ambiguous response. "I had to go to my office directly after the inquest, but I returned at once." "And what have you discovered? Anything fresh?" "Yes," he responded slowly. "A fresh fact or two--facts that still increase the mystery." "What are they? Tell me," I urged. "No, Ralph, old chap. When I am certain of their true importance I'll explain them to you. At present I desire to pursue my own methods until I arrive at some clear conclusion." This disinclination to tell me the truth was annoying. He had always been quite frank and open, explaining all his theories, and showing to me any weak points in the circumstantial evidence. Yet suddenly, as it seemed to me, he had become filled with a strange mistrust. Why, I could not conceive. "But surely you can tell me the nature of your discoveries?" I said. "There need be no secrets between us in this affair." "No, Ralph. But I'm superstitious enough to believe that ill-luck follows a premature exposure of one's plans," he said. His excuse was a lame one--a very lame one. I smiled--in order to show him that I read through such a transparent attempt to mislead me. "I might have refused to show you that letter of Ethelwynn's," I protested. "Yet our interests being mutual I handed it to you." "And it is well that you did." "Why?" "Because knowledge of it has changed the whole course of my inquiries." "Changed them from one direction to another?" He nodded. "And you are now prosecuting them in the direction of Ethelwynn?" "No," he answered. "Not exactly."