Eager as he was, Gifford resolved to show no further curiosity.  “You know best,” he rejoined almost casually.  “But I hope for the Morristons’ sake the mystery will be soon satisfactorily cleared up.”

There was a peculiar glitter in Henshaw’s eyes as he replied, “No doubt they are anxious.”

“Naturally.  They are getting rather worried by all this police fuss.”

“Naturally.”  Henshaw repeated Gifford’s word with a curious emphasis.  “It is unfortunate for them,” he added.  “But all the same it is imperative that the manner of my brother’s death should be thoroughly investigated.”

He nodded, and as unwilling to discuss the matter further, opened a newspaper and turned away.

About noon next day Gifford went with Kelson to Wynford Place.  They had seen nothing more of Henshaw who, it seemed, was rather inclined to hold away from them, possibly with a view to avoiding an opportunity of discussing the affair, or because he was occupied in following up some clue he had, or thought he had, got hold of.  This was naturally a disappointment to Gifford, who was anxious, on Miss Morriston’s behalf, to keep himself posted as to Henshaw’s intentions.

“Of course,” said Kelson, “the fellow will have heard of the stains found on Muriel’s dress, and will set himself to make the most of that discovery.  I only hope he won’t take to worrying her.  She is quite enough upset about it without that.”

“Doubtless that is why he is keeping away from us,” Gifford observed.  “He probably has heard of your engagement.”

“And has the decency to see that he cannot very well discuss the matter with us,” Kelson added.

On their arrival at Wynford Place Morriston told them that Gervase Henshaw was there with a detective in the room of the tragedy.  “There is a decided improvement in his manner to-day,” he said with a laugh.  “He has been quite considerate and apologetic; so much so that I think I shall have to ask him to stay to luncheon; it seems rather churlish in the circumstances not to do so when the man is actually in the house on what should be to him a very sad business.  But you fellows must stay too, to take off some of the strain.”

They accepted; Gifford not sorry, for more reasons than one, to stay.

He presently took an opportunity of joining Edith Morriston in the garden.

“I have been keeping a look-out for Mr. Henshaw,” he said, as they strolled off down a secluded walk, “but so far have had a chance of speaking to him only once, when I ran across him in the hotel.”

“Yes?” she responded, with a scarcely concealed curiosity to hear what had passed.

“He has evidently got hold of some clue, or at least thinks he has,” Gifford proceeded.  “But what it is he did not tell me.  In fact he rather declined to discuss the affair.  I fancy he had had a long consultation with the police authorities.”

“And he would tell you nothing?”