way to the street by the side door.

The only other happening of significance that Sunday was an unheralded
visit by Winter to the policeman's residence.

He popped in after dusk, opening the door without knocking.

"You in, Robinson?" he inquired.

"Yes, sir. Will you--"

"Shan't detain you more than a minute. At the inquest you said that you
personally untied the rope which bound Miss Melhuish's body. Here are a
piece of string and a newspaper. Would you mind showing me what sort of
knot was used?"

Robinson was nearly struck dumb, and his fingers fumbled badly, but he
managed to exhibit two hitches.

"Ah, thanks," said Winter, and was off in a jiffy.

From the window of a darkened room Robinson watched the erect, burly
figure of the detective until it was merged in the mists of night.

"Well, I'm--," he exclaimed bitterly.

"John, what are you swearing about?" demanded his wife from the kitchen.

"Something I heard to-day," answered her husband. "There was a chap of my
name, John P. Robinson, an' he said that down in Judee they didn't know