“Miss Grison,” said Marie, coming forward when she heard her lover’s speech and offering her hand. “I heard you were down here.” Miss Grison took the hand, gave it a limp shake and dropped it. “Thank you, my dear,” she said in a cold, precise voice. “I came down for my brother’s funeral. He always wished to rest in Belstone churchyard and have the service read over his remains by Mr. Fuller, so I felt it was only due to his memory to do what he desired.” “This is Mr. Fuller’s son,” said Marie, introducing Alan. “How do you do,” said the visitor, still coldly. “I remember you years ago as a little boy with bare legs and a pinafore. You have grown since then.” “It is impossible to have bare legs and a pinafore at twenty-seven,” said Alan, not knowing if she was laughing at him. “Twenty and more years ago I saw you,” said Miss Grison, who certainly seemed to have no sense of humor. “Ah, how the time passes. You were just born when I left Belstone to live in London,” she added, glancing in her hard way at Marie, “a mere infant in arms.” “I have seen you a few times though,” murmured Marie politely. Miss Grison nodded stiffly. “Occasionally I have come down to stay with Selina Millington,” she explained, “and we met before you went to school at Brighton. But since your return a year ago we have not met, as I have not been down here. How did you recognise me?” “You are not changed in any way,” said Marie bluntly. “I should be,” remarked the little woman with a sigh, “my poor Baldwin’s death has broken my heart.” “It was very terrible,” Marie hastened to assure her. “I read about it in the newspapers. Who killed him?” “That’s what I intend to find out,” cried Miss Grison with a flash of her blue eyes. “Poor Baldwin never harmed a soul, and had no enemies—except one,” she ended with an afterthought, and her lips closed firmly. “Perhaps the one enemy killed him.” “I don’t know. I can’t prove anything. And the police seem to be doubtful about tracing the man.” “It was a man then who murdered your brother?” asked Alan suddenly. Miss Grison gave him a scrutinizing look. “Yes, it was a man, as I truly believe, although there is no evidence to show the sex of the murderer.” “What is the name of the person you think was your brother’s enemy?” “Never mind, Mr. Fuller. I may misjudge him, and until I am sure I shall mention no names. But I shall watch and search and think and work until I avenge poor Baldwin’s death!” And the fierce, determined look on her yellow face showed that she thoroughly meant what she said. “Can I help you in any way?” “Why should you?” she asked cautiously. “Because I take an interest in the case,” Alan explained equally cautiously. “A friend of mine, Mr. Latimer, who was at the inquest, told me all about the sad circumstances, and the death is so mysterious that both of us wish to learn the truth, if only out of curiosity.”