"My wife," began Leroux, "shared a studio in Paris, at the time that I
met her, with an American lady a very talented portrait painter--er--a
Miss Denise Ryland. You may know her name?--but of course, you don't,
no! Well, my wife is, herself, quite clever with her brush; in fact she
has exhibited more than once at the Paris Salon. We agreed at--er--the
time of our--of our--engagement, that she should be free to visit her
old artistic friends in Paris at any time. You understand? There was to
be no let or hindrance.... Is this really necessary, Inspector?"

"Pray go on, Mr. Leroux."

"Well, you understand, it was a give-and-take arrangement; because I
am afraid that I, myself, demand certain--sacrifices from my
wife--and--er--I did not feel entitled to--interfere"...

"You see, Inspector," interrupted Dr. Cumberly, "they are a Bohemian
pair, and Bohemians, inevitably, bore one another at times! This little
arrangement was intended as a safety-valve. Whenever ennui attacked Mrs.
Leroux, she was at liberty to depart for a week to her own friends in
Paris, leaving Leroux to the bachelor's existence which is really his
proper state; to go unshaven and unshorn, to dine upon bread and cheese
and onions, to work until all hours of the morning, and generally to
enjoy himself!"

"Does she usually stay long?" inquired Dunbar.

"Not more than a week, as a rule," answered Leroux.

"You must excuse me," continued the detective, "if I seem to pry into