“Indeed, sir,” Coates permitted himself to remark.  “Is it something to do with the discovery at the docks this morning, sir?”

“It is, Coates,” I replied.  “It is an utterly damnable business.”

“Indeed, sir,” said Coates again, and went to the telephone.

Three minutes later I was talking to Isobel.

“I find it utterly impossible to tell you what has happened,” she declared, “since I saw you last.  I feel incapable of thinking, and of course it was quite out of the question for me to go to the theater to-night.  But it is not so bad as it might have been.”  She hesitated, then:  “I was only able to give them very short notice unfortunately, but from a selfish point of view, as you know—­I was leaving the stage—­very shortly—­”

“Yes,” I answered dully, “I know; but have you seen the police?”

“I have seen Inspector Gatton,” she replied; “but as he told me that he was coming along to you, no doubt you know what took place.”

“No,” I replied; “he did not mention the visit, but you quite recognize the fact, Isobel, that he does not regard you as being in any way concerned in this ghastly affair.”

“He was awfully kind,” she admitted; “in fact I quite changed my opinion regarding the methods of the police authorities after my interview with Inspector Gatton; but although he was so extremely tactful with me, I really cannot forgive him his suspicions, which he was at scarcely any pains to disguise, regarding Eric.”

“Regarding Eric!” I exclaimed.

“Oh,” continued Isobel, “he may have concealed his views from you, as he knows that you are—­a friend of Eric’s; but he was less careful about concealing them from me.  To all intents and purposes Eric is under police surveillance!”

“But this is utterly incredible!” said I.  “You don’t mean to tell me, Isobel, that Coverly has persisted in his silence respecting his movements last night?  If he has done so, in the circumstances he has only himself to thank.  Social position and everything else counts for nothing when an inquiry concerning a murder is concerned.  He knows that perfectly well.”

I think I spoke hotly, and certainly I spoke with a certain indignation, for I very strongly resented Coverly’s attitude in the case, which could only add to the difficulties and sorrows of Isobel’s position.

Yet a moment afterwards I regretted that I had done so, for: 

“Are you going to quarrel with me, too?” she asked pathetically.

“What do you mean?  Who has been quarreling with you?”

“Eric quarreled with me fiercely at the solicitors’ to-day, and when I begged of him to be frank respecting his movements last night, his attitude became”—­she hesitated—­“almost unbearable.  He did not seem to realize that I was only thinking of him, nor did he seem to realize the construction which I might have placed upon his silence.  I mean, Jack, what can he possibly have to conceal?”