I interrupted, impatiently, for the absence of circumstantial evidence bothered me greatly. "Inspector Dredge looked over all the papers and letters of the dead woman, and found nothing likely to lead to the discovery of the guilty person's name. As to gossip, it appears that Mrs. Caldershaw kept to herself in the corner shop, and little was known about her. She came to Mootley five years ago with her savings, having been the housekeeper of Gabriel Monk of Burwain, near Gattlingsands. There she started a shop, and at times received a visit from Miss Gertrude Monk, whom she nursed, and from Miss Destiny, who is the young lady's aunt." "Two women," breathed Mabel, facing me; "do you think----" "That either one is guilty?" I interrupted again and somewhat sharply. "No, I certainly do not. Miss Destiny was on her way to stay the night with Mrs. Caldershaw when the crime was committed; and at the inquest she stated that she left her niece behind at The Lodge, Burwain." "You needn't be so cross about it," said Mabel, staring at my acrid tone. "I only suggested possibilities. What are you laughing at, Cannington?" "Nothing," said the boy untruthfully, and looked hard at me. The fact of my admiration for Miss Monk's pictured face--we had discussed her several times before and after the inquest--was in his mind, as I well knew. But he had grace enough to keep this to himself, and not set Lady Mabel's too ready tongue chattering. "I wish you wouldn't giggle, Cannington," she said, accepting the excuse, "it's growing on you. Well," she faced me, "and what are you going to do?" "About what, if you please?" "About this murder?" "What the deuce should he do?" cried Cannington, openly surprised. "He's well out of an awkward situation, so there's no more to be said. I daresay he'll write a melodrama on the case and solve the mystery in the wrong way." "I am not so sure," said I pointedly, "that I won't try to solve it the right way." "What do you mean by that?" asked my friend, staring. "I mean that the mystery of Mrs. Caldershaw's glass eye fascinates me, and that I intend to follow up what clues there are." "There aren't any," said Cannington promptly. "You heard what Inspector Dredge remarked at the inquest." "He admitted that he could find no evidence, it is true, but that doesn't mean to say that evidence is not to be found." "Are you about to turn an amateur detective?" "Why not? Now why are you laughing?" "Oh, he's crazy," said Mabel disdainfully. "Here comes my train. I'll have a rush to reach town and dress. Aunt Lucy is always so punctual, I'm sure to get into hot water." "Ask Mr. Wentworth Marr to get you out of it," said I jokingly. "He could," she replied seriously, leaning out of the carriage window. "Aunt Lucy thinks no end of him, and would be glad to see me his wife."