"Relations!" I said hotly, "the man was a mere acquaintance; she
hadn't even seen him, except from the stage, for some months past."

"Oh," replied Gatton, "is that so?" He looked at me very queerly. "It
doesn't seem to dovetail with the evidence of the stage-doorkeeper."

I felt myself changing color, and:

"What, then, does the stage-doorkeeper assert?" I asked.

Gatton continued to look at me in that perplexed way, and believing
that I detected the trend of his reflections:

"Look here, Inspector," I said, "let us understand one another.
Whatever may be the evidence of stage-doorkeepers and others, upon one
point you can be assured. Miss Merlin had nothing whatever to do with
this horrible crime. The idea is unthinkable. So confident am I of
this, that you can be perfectly open with me and I give you my word of
honor that I shall be equally frank with you. The truth of the matter
cannot possibly injure her in the end and I am as anxious to discover
it as you are."

Gatton suddenly extended his hand, and:

"Good!" he said. "We understand one another, but how is Miss Merlin
going to explain this?"

He drew a note-book from his pocket, turned over several leaves, and
then: