Gatton suddenly extended his hand, and: 

“Good!” he said.  “We understand one another, but how is Miss Merlin going to explain this?”

He drew a note-book from his pocket, turned over several leaves, and then: 

“On no fewer than six occasions,” he said, “I have approximate dates here, Sir Marcus sent his card to Miss Merlin’s dressing-room.”

“I know,” I interrupted him; “he persecuted her, but she never saw him.”

“Wait a minute.  Last night”—­Gatton glanced at me sharply—­“Marie, the maid, came down after Sir Marcus’s card had been sent to the dressing-room and talked for several minutes to the late baronet, just by the doorkeeper’s box, but out of earshot.  That was at ten o’clock.  At eleven, that is after the performance, Sir Marcus returned, and again Marie came down to see him.  They went out into the street together and Sir Marcus entered a cab which was waiting and drove off.  Miss Merlin left a quarter of an hour later.”

Our glances met and a silence of some moments’ duration fell between us; then: 

“You suggest,” I said, “that Miss Merlin had arranged a rendezvous with him and to save appearances had joined him there later?”

“Well”—­Gatton raised his eyebrows—­“what do you suggest?”

I found myself temporarily at a loss for words, but: 

“Knowing nothing of this,” I explained, “naturally I was not in a position to tax Miss Merlin with it.  Possibly you have done so.  What is her explanation?”

“I have not seen her,” confessed Gatton; “I arrived at her flat ten minutes after she had gone out—­with you.”

“You saw Marie?”

“Unfortunately Marie was also out, but I saw an old charwoman who attends daily, I understand, and it was from her that I learned of your visit.”

“Marie,” I said, “may be able to throw some light on the matter.”

“I don’t doubt it!” replied Gatton grimly.  “Meanwhile we have sufficient evidence to show that Sir Marcus drove from the New Avenue Theater to this house.”

“He may not have driven here at all,” I interrupted; “he may have driven somewhere else and performed the latter part of his journey here—­”

“In the crate!” cried Gatton.  “Yes, you are right; his body may actually have been inside the crate at the time that you and Bolton arrived here last night; for that would be fully an hour after Sir Marcus left the stage-door.”

“But who can have rung up the police station last night?” I cried, “and what can have been the object of this unknown person?”

“That we have to find out,” said Gatton quietly; “undoubtedly it formed part of a scheme planned with extraordinary cunning; it was not an accident or an oversight, I mean.  The men who are assisting me haven’t been idle, for we have already learned some most amazing facts about the case.  I haven’t yet visited the house myself, but I have here the report of one of my assistants who has done so; also I have the keys.  The garage I will inspect more carefully later on.”