Dunbar drummed upon the blotting-pad with the fingers of his left hand. “It beats anything of the kind that has ever come my way,” he confessed. “You get pretty cautious at weighing people up, in this business; but I certainly don't think--mind you, I go no further--but I certainly don't think Mr. Henry Leroux would willingly kill a fly; yet there is circumstantial evidence enough to hang him.” Sergeant Sowerby nodded, gazing speculatively at the floor. “I wonder,” he said, slowly, “why the girl--Miss Cumberly--hesitated about telling us the woman's name?” “I am not wondering about that at all,” replied Dunbar, bluntly. “She must meet thousands in the same way. The wonder to me is that she remembered at all. I am open to bet half-a-crown that YOU couldn't remember the name of every woman you happened to have pointed out to you at an Arts Ball?” “Maybe not,” agreed Sowerby; “she's a smart girl, I'll allow. I see you have last night's papers there?” “I have,” replied Dunbar; “and I'm wondering”... “If there's any connection?” “Well,” continued the inspector, “it looks on the face of it as though the news of her husband's death had something to do with Mrs. Vernon's presence at Leroux's flat. It's not a natural thing for a woman, on the evening of her husband's death, to rush straight away to another man's place”... “It's strange we couldn't find her clothes”... “It's not strange at all! You're simply obsessed with the idea that this was a love intrigue! Think, man! the most abandoned woman wouldn't run to keep an appointment with a lover at a time like that! And remember she had the news in her pocket! She came to that flat dressed--or undressed--just as we found her; I'm sure of it. And a point like that sometimes means the difference between hanging and acquittal.” Sergeant Sowerby digested these words, composing his jovial countenance in an expression of unnatural profundity. Then:-- “THE point to my mind,” he said, “is the one raised by Mr. Hilton. By gum! didn't Dr. Cumberly tell him off!” “Dr. Cumberly,” replied Dunbar, “is entitled to his opinion, that the injection in the woman's shoulder was at least eight hours old; whilst Mr. Hilton is equally entitled to maintain that it was less than ONE hour old. Neither of them can hope to prove his case.” “If either of them could?”... “It might make a difference to the evidence--but I'm not sure.” “What time is your appointment?” “Ten o'clock,” replied Dunbar. “I am meeting Mr. Debnam--the late Mr. Vernon's solicitor. There is something in it. Damme! I am sure of it!” “Something in what?” “The fact that Mr. Vernon died yesterday evening, and that his wife was murdered at midnight.” “What have you told the press?” “As little as possible, but you will see that the early editions will all be screaming for the arrest of Soames.” “I shouldn't wonder. He would be a useful man to have; but he's probably out of London now.”