that young lady would invariably express herself satisfied with either and did not seem to realise why she should be expected to have any choice in the matter.  Alice was quite at a loss to understand this state of affairs, until I told her that Gwen was in a condition of semi-torpor in which even the effort of choice seemed an unwarrantable outlay.  She simply did not care what happened.  She felt nothing, save a sense of fatigue, and even what she saw was viewed as from afar,—­and seemed to her a drama in which she took no other part than that of an idle, tired, and listless spectator.  Clearly she was losing her hold on life.  I told Alice we must do our utmost to arouse her, to stimulate her will, to awaken her interest, and we tried many things in vain.

Maitland had been gone, I think, about three weeks when my sister and I hit upon a plan which we thought might have the desired effect upon Gwen.  Before her father’s death she had been one of the most active members of a Young People’s Club which devoted every Wednesday evening to the study of Shakespeare.  She had attended none of its meetings since her bereavement, but Alice and I soon persuaded her to accompany us on the following week and I succeeded, by a little quiet wire-pulling, in getting her appointed to take charge of the following meeting, which was to be devoted to the study of “Antony and Cleopatra.”  When informed of the task which had been imposed upon her Gwen was for declining the honour at once, and the most Alice and I were able to do was to get her to promise to think it over a day or so before she refused.

The next morning Maitland walked in upon us.  He had found both of Mr. Darrow’s former servants and satisfied himself that they were in San Francisco on the night of the murder.  So that ended my Chinese clue.  While Alice and Gwen were discussing the matter, I took occasion to draw Maitland aside, and told him of Gwen’s appointment to take charge of the Cleopatra night, and how necessary it was to her health that she should be aroused from her torpor.  It doesn’t take long for Maitland to see a thing, and before I had whispered a dozen sentences he had completely grasped the situation.  He crossed the room, drew a chair up beside Gwen, and sat down.  “Miss Darrow,” he began, “I am afraid you will have a poor opinion of me as a detective.  This is the second time I have failed.  I feel that I should remind you again of our compact, at least, that part of it which permits you to dispense with my services whenever you shall see fit to do so, and, at the same time, to relieve you from your obligation to let me order your actions.  I tell you frankly it will be necessary for you to discharge me, if you would be rid of me, for, unless you do so, or I find the assassin, I shall never cease my search so long as I have the strength and means to conduct it.  What do you say?  Have I not proved my uselessness?” This was said in a tentative, half-jesting tone.  Gwen answered it very seriously.