Later my attention was attracted by a photograph on the mantelpiece--a sumptuous photograph by an artistic London firm, set in an ornate silver frame, far too expensive for the late Mrs. Caldershaw to have purchased herself. I struck a match to examine it. Out of the semi-darkness flashed a truly lovely face, with the sweetest smile I had ever beheld. In the flickering light, I saw the head and shoulders and bust of a girl--a lady, a goddess I might say. She was arrayed in an evening dress of the simplest kind, untrimmed and unadorned in any way. Not even a necklace appeared on the swan-like grace of the neck, and no bracelets accentuated the outline of the finely-moulded arms. And the face--I fell in love with it at sight--with its haunting eyes and grave, tender, wishful smile. The hair was dressed in the plain Greek fashion, and the head, being turned a trifle to one side, ravished me with its chaste loveliness. Doubtless the picture represented a modern young lady, but to me it gleamed forth from the darkness as a revelation of Diana, but not of the Ephesians. No! here was the virginal huntress, who slew Actæn, who solaced the dying Hippolytus, and who came to Endymion in dreams on Mount Latmus. I was no raw boy, and--I have confessed it before--I had never been in love; but this exquisite face captured my heart, my fancy, my psychic senses, and all that there was in me to respond to the mystery of sex. Love at first sight was a mighty truth after all. Here was--my wife. "Nonsense," said I aloud at this point, and the match went out after burning my fingers. The men looked up inquiringly, and keeping well back in the gloom I coloured warmly. "It's nothing. An idle thought passed through my mind. I wonder,"--here I hesitated, as I was on the verge of asking the two what they knew about the portrait. But an inexplicable sense of nervous shame kept me silent on this point and I finished my sentence in another way. "I wonder when the Inspector will arrive," said I with a yawn.