“Is practically killing him?  No, I have not told him yet.  For—­would my news act as a palliative or as an irritant?”

“That depends,” pronounced Denise Ryland, “on the nature of... your news.”

“I suppose I have no right to conceal it from him.  Therefore, we will tell him to-day.  But although, beyond doubt, his mind will be relieved upon one point, the real facts are almost, if not quite, as bad.”

“I learnt, this morning,” he continued, lighting a cigarette, “certain facts which, had I been half as clever as I supposed myself, I should have deduced from the data already in my possession.  I was aware, of course, that the unhappy victim—­Mrs. Vernon—­was addicted to the use of opium, and if a tangible link were necessary, it existed in the form of the written fragment which I myself took from the dead woman’s hand."...

“A link!” said Denise Ryland.

“A link between Mrs. Vernon and Mrs. Leroux,” explained the physician.  “You see, it had never occurred to me that they knew one another."...

“And did they?” questioned his daughter, eagerly.

“It is almost certain that they were acquainted, at any rate; and in view of certain symptoms, which, without giving them much consideration, I nevertheless had detected in Mrs. Leroux, I am disposed to think that the bond of sympathy which existed between them was"...

He seemed to hesitate, looking at his daughter, whose gray eyes were fixed upon him intently, and then at Denise Ryland, who, with her chin resting upon her hands, and her elbows propped upon the table, was literally glaring at him.

“Opium!” he said.

A look of horror began slowly to steal over Helen Cumberly’s face; Denise Ryland’s head commenced to sway from side to side.  But neither woman spoke.

“By the courtesy of Inspector Dunbar,” continued Dr. Cumberly, “I have been enabled to keep in touch with the developments of the case, as you know; and he had noted as a significant fact that the late Mrs. Vernon’s periodical visits to Scotland corresponded, curiously, with those of Mrs. Leroux to Paris.  I don’t mean in regard to date; although in one or two instances (notably Mrs. Vernon’s last journey to Scotland, and that of Mrs. Leroux to Paris), there was similarity even in this particular.  A certain Mr. Debnam—­the late Horace Vernon’s solicitor—­placed an absurd construction upon this"...

“Do you mean,” interrupted Helen in a strained voice, “that he insinuated that Mrs. Vernon"...

“He had an idea that she visited Leroux—­yes,” replied her father hastily.  “It was one of those absurd and irritating theories, which, instinctively, we know to be wrong, but which, if asked for evidence, we cannot hope to prove to be wrong.”

“It is outrageous!” cried Helen, her eyes flashing indignantly; “Mr. Debnam should be ashamed of himself!”

Dr. Cumberly smiled rather sadly.