"Anyway," the Old Man in the Corner concluded, "I believe that it was with a view to making a future marriage possible between Louisa and Henry that the two brothers organised the supposed murder. Probably if the train had been full and they had seen danger in the undertaking they would not have done it. But the _mise en scène_ was easily enough set and it certainly was an additional safeguard. Now in another week or so Louisa Smithson will be Henry Carter's wife, and presently you will find that John in London, and Henry and his wife, will be quite comfortably off. And after that, whatever suspicions Mrs. Smithson may have of the truth, her lips would have to remain sealed. She could not very well prosecute her only child's husband. "And so the matter will always remain a mystery to the public: but the police know more than they are able to admit because they have no proof. "And now they never will have. But as to the murder in the train, well!--the murdered man never existed." V THE MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY IN BISHOP'S ROAD §1 The Old Man in the Corner was in a philosophising mood that afternoon, and all the while that his thin, claw-like fingers fidgeted with the inevitable piece of string, he gave vent to various, disjointed, always sententious remarks. Suddenly he said: "We know, of course, that the world has gone dancing mad! But I doubt if the fashionable craze has ever been responsible before for so dark a tragedy as the death of old Sarah Levison. What do you think?" "Well," I replied guardedly, for I knew that, whatever I might say, I should draw an avalanche of ironical remarks upon my innocent head, "I never have known what to think, and all the accounts of that brutal murder as they appeared in the cheaper Press only made the obscurity all the more obscure." "That was a wise and well-thought-out reply," the aggravating creature retorted with a dry chuckle, "and a non-committal one at that. Obscurity is indeed obscure for those who won't take the trouble to think." "I suppose it is all quite clear to you?" I said, with what I meant to be withering sarcasm. "As clear as the proverbial daylight," he replied undaunted. "You know how old Mrs. Levison came by her death?" "Of course I do. I will tell you, if you like." "By all means. But I am not prepared to be convinced," I added cautiously. "No," he admitted, "but you soon will be. However, before we reach that happy conclusion, I shall have to marshal the facts before you, because a good many of these must have escaped your attention. Shall I proceed?" "If you please." "Well, then, do you remember all the personages in the drama?" he began. "I think so."