"Good!" Trenholm's relief was unmistakable and sincere. "Where are you going?" "Downstairs to see if Doctor Roberts has returned," she said, as he walked with her. She looked up at him impulsively. "Miss Carter is suffering horribly--" "I thought you said that she was improving," halting abruptly on the landing of the staircase. "I mean mental agony. Mr. Trenholm, can't you help her?" "And _you_ ask that?" The light in his eyes caused her to catch her breath sharply, then her heart raced on. "Come, you have never told me whom you think guilty of Paul's murder?" He led the way into the sunparlor, where Anna had lighted two of the lamps before returning to the kitchen. Trenholm adjusted the Holland shades and curtains before the windows to his satisfaction, then sat down near Miriam. She stared at him thoughtfully before speaking. "I learned only a few hours ago of the bloodstained sheet," she said, "and that Corbin was so treacherous as to let you infer--" He interrupted her hastily. "My inferences or deductions cleared you of any complicity in the crime," his clear, strong voice and charming smile dispelled her agonizing suspense. "I never doubted you, Miss Ward, _never_. Although the exigencies of the case may have led me to imply otherwise, I never lost faith in your integrity--your honor--your splendid courage--" "Ahem!" Trenholm and Miriam, who had sat enthralled drinking in his words and the message which his eyes spoke more eloquently than human lips, both looked up to find Alexander Nash standing in the doorway contemplating them. "I drove over to see you, Trenholm, but that rascally servant of yours refused to tell me where you were to be found," explained Nash. "I then drove to Upper Marlboro and the constable finally 'allowed' you might be here. Such crass stupidity has cost me valuable time!" And Nash, the usually polished, suave clergyman as known in Washington and Toronto church circles, flung himself into a chair near Miriam, his face like a thundercloud. "Why the excitement?" asked Trenholm, regarding him keenly. "I have a confession to make." Nash took out his large silk handkerchief and dabbed his forehead. "No, don't go, Miss Ward--this interview holds as much interest for you as it does for the sheriff. It was in his presence that I told you that I failed to recall certain incidents of Monday night--" "Whereby you lied," pointed out Miriam coolly, and noted with relish Nash's apoplectic complexion. "You use a harsh term, Miss Ward," he objected. "My statement was, strictly speaking, an evasion--I did not deny that the incidents took place--simply that I did not recall them." "Oh, come to the point!" Trenholm's tone was not complimentary, and Nash squirmed in his chair. "Miss Carter and I were here on Monday night," he began. "And I did perform the marriage service--uniting Paul and Betty in holy wedlock."