Betty glanced at him for a fraction of a second, then her gaze swept the library. It was the first time she had ever been in Trenholm's house. Slowly her eyes traveled about the room, noting each object, until finally her gaze rested on a large silver frame standing on the big mahogany table. It was one she had given to Trenholm in Paris. She caught her breath slightly--the frame was empty. She suddenly grew conscious of the concentrated regard of her companions and involuntarily her glance sought Alan, sitting across from her. "Well, Betty, we are waiting," he exclaimed. "For the sheriff," she broke in. "Come, sir, do not keep us longer." Trenholm took out a cigarette case and offered it to Betty, but she waved it away. "I'll take some coffee," she said. "Thanks, Alan," as he filled a cup for her. Again she turned to Trenholm. "Go on." "Suppose we reconstruct the scene on Monday night," began Trenholm slowly. "Roberts turns Paul over to his trained nurse and leaves. Corbin and his wife go to bed, and Miss Ward is alone with her patient...." "What then?" asked Alan, bending forward, his eyes fastened on Betty, who sat sipping her coffee. Trenholm answered his question with another. "What do we know of Miss Ward?" he asked, and Roberts stared at him. "Know of her?" the physician repeated. "She was sent on the case by Central Registry." "And what about her antecedents?" questioned Trenholm. "Where did she spring from? Is she a Washingtonian?" "She said not," replied Roberts. "She told me that she had trained in New York." "And you know nothing more of her than that?" "Nothing more." "You don't even know that she was not acquainted with Paul before." "What!" Roberts' eyes opened as well as his mouth. "Why--why--they were strangers." "Ah, were they?" with quiet emphasis. "Can you prove it?" Roberts shook his head. "No; but judging from her manner she had never met Paul before." "Women are clever actresses," retorted Trenholm. "Well, Miss Ward, who may or who may not have known Paul before, is the last person known to have been with him on the night he was murdered--the last person to have seen him alive!" "Hold on," the interruption came from Alan. He was not looking at Betty, but kept his eyes steadfastly lowered, the cigar still in his hand. "Miss Ward claims that Paul had visitors--" "And Miss Ward's statements as to their presence have not been substantiated"--Trenholm paused and Betty could not avoid his stare--"as yet." In the lengthening silence Betty's rapid breathing was faintly audible. She finished her coffee and her hand was quite steady as she set the cup and saucer down on a stool by her side. "And your theory is--what?" she asked, raising her eyes to Trenholm's. "That Miss Ward killed Paul while he slept," replied the sheriff. Alan drew out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. "It's a rotten theory!" he exploded. "Why, Trenholm, I thought you liked Miss Ward?"