me about this affair at the very beginning? Here's a man suddenly and
violently killed, and nobody's heart seems to be broken about it, to say the
least. The manager of this hotel spoke to me about him as coolly as if he'd
never set eyes on him, though I understand they've been neighbours every
summer for some years. Then you talk about the thing in the coldest of blood.
And Mrs. Manderson--well, you won't mind my saying that I have heard of women
being more cut up about their husbands being murdered than she seems to be. Is
there something in this, Cupples, or is it my fancy? Was there something queer
about Manderson? I travelled on the same boat with him once, but never spoke
to him. I only know his public character, which was repulsive enough. You see,
this may have a bearing on the case; that's the only reason why I ask.'

Mr. Cupples took time for thought. He fingered his sparse beard and looked out
over the sea. At last he turned to Trent. 'I see no reason,' he said, 'why I
shouldn't tell you as between ourselves, my dear fellow. I need not say that
this must not be referred to, however distantly. The truth is that nobody
really liked Manderson; and I think those who were nearest to him liked him
least.'

'Why?' the other interjected.

'Most people found a difficulty in explaining why. In trying to account to
myself for my own sensations, I could only put it that one felt in the man a
complete absence of the sympathetic faculty. There was nothing outwardly
repellent about him. He was not ill-mannered, or vicious, or dull--indeed, he
could be remarkably interesting. But I received the impression that there
could be no human creature whom he would not sacrifice in the pursuit of his
schemes, in his task of imposing himself and his will upon the world. Perhaps
that was fanciful, but I think not altogether so. However, the point is that
Mabel, I am sorry to say, was very unhappy. I am nearly twice your age, my