"It comes under the head of hanging, and I'll be glad to see the rope round his neck." "Of whom are you talking?" asked Rodgers phlegmatically. "Of the man who killed my dearest friend." "Oh. I understood from the Superintendent that the affair was quite a mystery." "Not to me," snapped Miss Pewsey, "Rupert Ainsleigh strangled her to get the fan." "What fan?" asked the detective taking out his note-book, "and who is Rupert Ainsleigh?" Miss Pewsey spread her skirts and folded her hands together in a prim way. "I shall tell you all," she cried, "and please take down all I say. I am prepared to make this statement in a law court." "Well," said Rodgers moistening his pencil, "you may have to. Now this Mr. Ainsleigh?----" "Of Royabay, a few miles from Marport," said Miss Pewsey, "quite one of the old families. A nice come down for the Ainsleighs, for the last of them to die on the gallows." "He is not there yet," said Rodgers dryly, "and may I ask you to speak in a more reasonable way. I see you don't like the man." "I hate him," Miss Pewsey drew a long breath, "and I hated his father before him, to say nothing of his mother, who was a cat." "Then your evidence is prejudiced, I fancy." "Never you mind, Mr. Orlando Rodgers," she replied sharply, "take down what I say, and then you can sift the matter out for yourself. My Sophia was murdered to obtain possession of a fan----" "What fan?" asked Rodgers again. Miss Pewsey smiled, and calmly detailed all she had learned from Dr. Forge concerning the fan. "You can ask my nephew, Clarence Burgh, about these things also," she ended, "and Dr. Forge, and Mr. Christopher Walker, who brought the Chinaman Tung-yu to the ball, and----" "Wait a bit," interrupted the detective, "it appears to me from what you say," he ran a quick eye over his notes, "that the suspicion points to these Chinamen you mention. They advertised, and they wanted the fan. Now Hwei--as I hear from you--was not at the ball, but Tung-yu was. Therefore Tung-yu----" "Didn't do it," said the little woman. "I don't pretend to understand why Hwei offered death and Tung-yu money for the possession of the fan; nor do I know why this Mandarin, whatever his name may be, is so anxious to get possession of the article. But I know that the fan is gone and that Tung-yu, who did not intend murder, hasn't got it." "Then who has?" "Rupert Ainsleigh. He went up about the advertisement and knew all about the fan. I believe he killed my Sophia, and got the fan, so as to sell it for five thousand to Tung-yu--" "But a gentleman of property wouldn't--" "A gentleman of property," snorted the old maid smoothing her dress, "why he's head over ears in debt and will lose Royabay before the end of the year on account of the foreclosure of a mortgage. He'd have done anything to get money, and five thousand pounds is not a small amount." "This is all very well: but I don't see how you connected Mr. Ainsleigh with the crime."