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after the lights were turned on again could easily have done so. I saw twenty or thirty people go myself.’
    He did not look at her as he spoke. He could not bring himself to face her warm brown eyes swimming in tears.
    She took his arm and drew herself up.
    â€˜I’ll tell them,’ she said.
    She moved over towards the door, a solitary figure, very brave and very lonely, standing beneath the portrait of her smiling husband.
    Gradually the whispered talk died away, and all eyes were turned to her enquiringly. She opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her, and, stepping to the door, she pulled it open and stood clinging to the handle, waiting.
    The steady stream began again, moving a little more quickly than before.
    The old woman stood erect, shaking hands mechanically, smiling wanly at the murmured words of commiseration and regret, looking exactly what she was, a very gallant old lady.
    Mr Campion conquered his impulse to remain by her side. There were other things to be done. He disappeared through the door under the balcony, slipped out into the garden by the back way, and by entering the kitchen door in the basement escaped collision with the departing guests.
    He guessed there must be a back staircase, and he found it, and reached the landing outside Linda’s studio without encountering a soul. He stood listening outside the door. Everything within was silent.
    Campion was no fool. Linda had been in an unbalanced nervous condition that afternoon, and he had no illusions concerning her probable state of mind at the present moment. He went in prepared to meet a lunatic.
    He knocked, and, receiving no response, opened the door quietly and stepped into the darkness.
    â€˜Linda,’ he said softly.
    There was no reply and he felt round the door for the switch. As the room leapt into sight he realized that, save for himself, it was empty.
    He was just going out again when a door on the other side of the room opened and the girl came out. She was still pale, but seemed remarkably composed. She laid a finger on her lips when she saw him.
    â€˜Hush,’ she whispered. ‘Rosa-Rosa’s here in my room, asleep. I’ve given her an enormous bromide. She won’t wake for a long time.’
    Mr Campion was prepared for the worst and her words sent a thrill of horror down his spine.
    â€˜Good God, Linda! What have you done?’
    The words were forced from him, and he shot past the girl into the little bedroom beyond.
    Rosa-Rosa, her face red and swollen with tears, lay on the bed sleeping naturally enough. Campion went over to her, scrutinized her face, and touched her wrist as it lay upon the coverlet. When finally he straightened himself and turned, Linda was standing in the doorway regarding him, a puzzled expression gradually deepening to horror in her eyes.
    When he went out into the little studio she followed him, and touched his arm.
    â€˜What did you mean?’ she demanded breathlessly.
    Campion looked down at her, and his pale eyes behind his spectacles were troubled.
    â€˜What did you mean?’ the girl insisted.
    He passed his hand over his forehead. ‘I don’t know what I thought, Linda.’
    She caught hold of the cupboard door to steady herself.
    â€˜Albert,’ she said, ‘you don’t think that I killed Tommy, do you?’
    When he did not answer she drew back from him, her eyes starting with terror.
    â€˜Albert, you don’t think I’m insane!’
    When he remained silent, she put her hand up to her mouth as though to stifle a cry.
    â€˜What shall I do?’ she said huskily. ‘What shall I do?’
    She suddenly stepped forward and caught him by the shoulders.
    â€˜I loved Tommy – at least I suppose I did. And I was angry with him. But not as angry as that – not mad. I’d moved away from him when the lights went out. I was at the other end of the table. I heard someone moving in the darkness and I heard him go