"How do you know that?" "I don't know it, I only presume so. The body was found lying half in and half out of the window; so my theory is that Sir Rupert came to the open window for a breath of air, and the assassin, concealed in the shadow of the terrace, shot him through the head." "It's a very excellent theory--still, it is only theory." "Yes, I know that," said Maxwell, ruefully. "You don't know if Sir Rupert had any enemies, Mrs. Belswin?" "I! Why I did not even know Sir Rupert himself until I spoke to him that night in his study." There was no doubt that Mrs. Belswin was a magnificent actress, for she uttered this lie without the least hesitation. "No, of course not," answered Maxwell, after a pause. "I know he was a stranger to you. Still he must have had enemies. I wonder if Kaituna could tell me." "Ask her!" "No, I won't. It will only upset her. She is so agitated over the whole affair. I'll go and see the detective who had the case in hand, and I won't tell Kaituna anything until I can say, 'This is the murderer of your father.'" "It's a wild-goose chase." "Perhaps. Still something may be discovered." At this moment Kaituna returned, dressed for walking, and after bidding fare well to Mrs. Belswin, Archie went out with his sweetheart, leaving the chaperon still standing by the window. Mrs. Belswin twisted her hands together, and looked at the carpet with an angry frown. "Something maybe discovered," she repeated in a thoughtful tone. "I don't think so. The assassin came out of the night, fulfilled his mission, and disappeared again into the night. Not all the machinery of the law could find out the truth, and where the law failed I don't think you'll succeed, Archibald Maxwell." CHAPTER XXIV. A MEMORY OF THE PAST. I. "The present becomes the future. Yes! but the present does not again become the past; Time goes forward forever--we cannot return on his footsteps, For the laws of the universe are unalterable, unchangeable and fixed. II. "Yet when I see you before me, I am inclined to doubt all that has existed since the shaping of the earth from chaos. For you appear as you did in those far-distant days, When love and sin made up the sum of our lives. III. "Phantom! Vanish again into the darkness from whence my memory hath called thee! As a God I have re-created thee--as a God I condemn thee to disappear. I live the present, the future--but the past I will not renew. Lest such phantoms as you should turn the past into the present." In a private sitting-room of the Langham Hotel sat Mr. Silas P. Oates, of New York City, millionaire, who had come to England with his wife and daughter to spend his money, secure a titled husband for his only child, and look round generally.