He was now pretty free to do this.  The Tredworths had ended their visit at Wynford and had returned home, and naturally Kelson spent much of his time over there, leaving Gifford to his own devices.  It had, in view of Gifford’s commission from Miss Morriston, been arranged that he should share Kelson’s rooms at the Golden Lion, no longer as a guest, so that both men were now independent of each other.  The date of Kelson’s wedding seemed now likely to be put off for some months, as his friend had suggested.  The unpleasant episode of the stains on Muriel Tredworth’s dress had, although there was no indication of attaching serious importance to them, nevertheless cast an uncomfortable shadow over the happiness of her betrothal, and without giving any specific reason she had declared for a postponement of the wedding, for which there was, after all, a quite natural reason.

“Perhaps it is just as well,” Kelson remarked to his friend.  “Although it is absolutely unthinkable that Muriel could have had anything to do with the affair, yet one can quite appreciate her wish to wait till perhaps something crops up to give us the explanation beyond all question.  It is rather a blow to me, and I hope if the mysterious Mr. Gervase Henshaw is really on the track of the crime he will produce his solution without much more delay.  For a girl like Muriel to have even the faintest suspicion hanging over her is simply hateful.”

Meanwhile the mysterious Mr. Henshaw seemed in no hurry to make known his theory, if he had one.  Yet he still remained in Branchester, writing all the morning and going out in the afternoon, usually with a handful of letters for post.  He always nodded affably to Gifford when they met, but beyond a casual remark on the weather or the events of the day, showed no disposition to chat.

But now while Gifford was in this unsatisfactory state of mind, persevering yet baffled in what he had undertaken to do, a very singular thing came to pass.  He strolled out one afternoon, aimlessly, wondering whether the negative result of his efforts justified his remaining in the place, and yet loath to leave it, held there as he was by the attraction of Edith Morriston.  He felt he could be making but little way in her favour seeing how he was failing in what he had undertaken to do for her, and as he walked he discussed with himself whether it would not be possible to hit on some more active plan of becoming acquainted with Henshaw’s knowledge and intentions.  It was obviously a delicate business, and after all, he thought, now that the man’s undesirable presence had practically ceased to be an annoyance to the Morristons there scarcely seemed any need to bother about him.  On the other hand, however, there was a certain strong curiosity on his own part to know Henshaw’s design and what kept him in the town.