She was a trifle paler than heretofore, but her pallor was probably rendered the more noticeable by the dead black she wore. Her hands seemed thin, and her fingers toyed nervously with her spoon in a manner that betrayed concealed agitation. Outwardly, however, I detected no extraordinary signs of either grief or anxiety. She spoke calmly, it was true, in the tone of one upon whom a great calamity had fallen, but that was only natural. I did not expect to find her bright, laughing, and light-hearted, like her old self in Richmond Road. As dinner proceeded I began to believe that, with a fond mother's solicitude for her daughter's welfare, Mrs. Mivart had slightly exaggerated Mary's symptoms. They certainly were not those of a woman plunged in inconsolable grief, for she was neither mopish nor artificially gay. As far as I could detect, not even a single sigh escaped her. She inquired of Ethelwynn and of the Hennikers, remarking that she had seen nothing of them for over three weeks; and then, when the servants had left the room, she placed her elbows upon the table, at the risk of a breach of good manners, and resting her chin upon her hands, looked me full in the face, saying: "Now, tell me the truth, Doctor. What has been discovered regarding my poor husband's death? Have the police obtained any clue to the assassin?" "None--none whatever, I regret to say," was my response. "They are useless--worse than useless!" she burst forth angrily; "they blundered from the very first." "That's entirely my own opinion, dear," her mother said. "Our police system nowadays is a mere farce. The foreigners are far ahead of us, even in the detection of crime. Surely the mystery of your poor husband's death might have been solved, if they had worked assiduously." "I believe that everything that could be done has been done," I remarked. "The case was placed in the hands of two of the smartest and most experienced men at Scotland Yard, with personal instructions from the Superintendent of the Criminal Investigation Department to leave no stone unturned in order to arrive at a successful issue." "And what has been done?" asked the young widow, in a tone of discontent; "why, absolutely nothing! There has, I suppose, been a pretence at trying to solve the mystery; but, finding it too difficult, they have given it up, and turned their attention to some other crime more open and plain-sailing. I've no faith in the police whatever. It's scandalous!" I smiled; then said: "My friend, Ambler Jevons--you know him, for he dined at Richmond Road one evening--has been most active in the affair." "But he's not a detective. How can he expect to triumph where the police fail?"