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shock didn’t do for him.”
    Harper said:
    â€œI’d no idea his health was as bad as that.”
    â€œHe doesn’t know it himself,” said Mark Gaskell. “It’s his heart, you see. The doctor warned Addie that he mustn’t be overexcited or startled. He more or less hinted that the end might come any time, didn’t he, Addie?”
    Mrs. Jefferson nodded. She said:
    â€œIt’s incredible that he’s rallied the way he has.”
    Melchett said dryly:
    â€œMurder isn’t exactly a soothing incident. We’ll be as careful as we can.”
    He was sizing up Mark Gaskell as he spoke. He didn’t much care for the fellow. A bold, unscrupulous, hawk-like face. One of those men who usually get their own way and whom women frequently admire.
    â€œBut not the sort of fellow I’d trust,” the Colonel thought to himself.
    Unscrupulous—that was the word for him.
    The sort of fellow who wouldn’t stick at anything….
    III
    In the big bedroom overlooking the sea, Conway Jefferson was sitting in his wheeled chair by the window.
    No sooner were you in the room with him than you felt the power and magnetism of the man. It was as though the injuries which had left him a cripple had resulted in concentrating the vitality of his shattered body into a narrower and more intense focus.
    He had a fine head, the red of the hair slightly grizzled. The face was rugged and powerful, deeply suntanned, and the eyes were a startling blue. There was no sign of illness or feebleness about him. The deep lines on his face were the lines of suffering, not the lines of weakness. Here was a man who would never rail against fate but accept it and pass on to victory.
    He said: “I’m glad you’ve come.” His quick eyes took them in.He said to Melchett: “You’re the Chief Constable of Radfordshire? Right. And you’re Superintendent Harper? Sit down. Cigarettes on the table beside you.”
    They thanked him and sat down. Melchett said:
    â€œI understand, Mr. Jefferson, that you were interested in the dead girl?”
    A quick, twisted smile flashed across the lined face.
    â€œYes—they’ll all have told you that! Well, it’s no secret. How much has my family said to you?”
    He looked quickly from one to the other as he asked the question. It was Melchett who answered.
    â€œMrs. Jefferson told us very little beyond the fact that the girl’s chatter amused you and that she was by way of being a protégée. We have only exchanged half a dozen words with Mr. Gaskell.”
    Conway Jefferson smiled.
    â€œAddie’s a discreet creature, bless her. Mark would probably have been more outspoken. I think, Melchett, that I’d better tell you some facts rather fully. It’s important, in order that you should understand my attitude. And, to begin with, it’s necessary that I go back to the big tragedy of my life. Eight years ago I lost my wife, my son, and my daughter in an aeroplane accident. Since then I’ve been like a man who’s lost half himself—and I’m not speaking of my physical plight! I was a family man. My daughter-in-law and my son-in-law have been very good to me. They’ve done all they can to take the place of my flesh and blood. But I’ve realized—especially of late, that they have, after all, their own lives to live.
    â€œSo you must understand that, essentially, I’m a lonely man. I like young people. I enjoy them. Once or twice I’ve played with the idea of adopting some girl or boy. During this last month I gotvery friendly with the child who’s been killed. She was absolutely natural—completely naïve. She chattered on about her life and her experiences—in pantomime, with touring companies, with Mum and Dad as a child in cheap lodgings. Such a different life from any I’ve known! Never complaining, never seeing it as sordid. Just a natural,