“It is indeed, sir,” agreed Dunbar.  “Can you throw any light upon the presence of Mrs. Vernon at Mr. Leroux’s flat on the very night of her husband’s death?”

“I can—­and I cannot,” answered the solicitor, leaning back in the chair and again adjusting his pince-nez, in the manner of a man having important matters—­and gloomy, very gloomy, matters—­to communicate.

“Good!” said the inspector, and prepared to listen.

“You see,” continued Debnam, “the late Mrs. Vernon was not actually residing with her husband at the date of his death.”

“Indeed!”

“Ostensibly”—­the solicitor shook a lean forefinger at his vis-a-vis—­“ostensibly, Inspector, she was visiting her sister in Scotland.”

Inspector Dunbar sat up very straight, his brows drawn down over the tawny eyes.

“These visits were of frequent occurrence, and usually of about a week’s duration.  Mr. Vernon, my late client, a man—­I’ll not deny it—­of inconstant affections (you understand me, Inspector?), did not greatly concern himself with his wife’s movements.  She belonged to a smart Bohemian set, and—­to use a popular figure of speech—­burnt the candle at both ends; late dances, night clubs, bridge parties, and other feverish pursuits, possibly taken up as a result of the—­shall I say cooling?—­of her husband’s affections"...

“There was another woman in the case?”

“I fear so, Inspector; in fact, I am sure of it:  but to return to Mrs. Vernon.  My client provided her with ample funds; and I, myself, have expressed to him astonishment respecting her expenditures in Scotland.  I understand that her sister was in comparatively poor circumstances, and I went so far as to point out to Mr. Vernon that one hundred pounds was—­shall I say an excessive?—­outlay upon a week’s sojourn in Auchterander, Perth.”

“A hundred pounds!”

“One hundred pounds!”

“Was it queried by Mr. Vernon?”

“Not at all.”

“Was Mr. Vernon personally acquainted with this sister in Perth?”

“He was not, Inspector.  Mrs. Vernon, at the time of her marriage, did not enjoy that social status to which my late client elevated her.  For many years she held no open communication with any member of her family, but latterly, as I have explained, she acquired the habit of recuperating—­recuperating from the effects of her febrile pleasures—­at this obscure place in Scotland.  And Mr. Vernon, his interest in her movements having considerably—­shall I say abated?—­offered no objection:  even suffered it gladly, counting the cost but little against"...

“Freedom?” suggested Dunbar, scribbling in his notebook.

“Rather crudely expressed, perhaps,” said the solicitor, peering over the top of his glasses, “but you have the idea.  I come now to my client’s awakening.  Four days ago, he learned the truth; he learned that he was being deceived!”

“Deceived!”