Winter’s Christian names were James Leander, the latter being conferred for no more classical reason than his father’s association with a famous boating club, but the fact supplied Furneaux with material for many a quip.  These things Theydon learnt later.  At present he was giving all his attention to Winter, who led the way into a dainty furnished bedroom.  The electric lights were governed by two switches.  A pair of lamps occupied the usual place in front of a dressing table; a third was suspended from a canopy over the bed, and was controlled also by an alternate switch behind the bolster.  Winter turned on all three lights, so the room was brilliantly illuminated.

Any place less likely to become the scene of a brutal crime could hardly be imagined.  It looked exactly what it was, the bedchamber of a refined and well-bred woman, whose trained sense of color and design was shown by the harmony of carpet, rugs, wall paper and furniture.

Winter pointed to a slight depression on the side of the bed.  A white linen coverlet was rumpled as though some one had sat there.

“That is where Ann Rogers, the maid, found her mistress at ten o’clock this morning,” he said.  “As you see, the bed had not been slept in.  Indeed, Mrs. Lester was fully dressed.  My belief is that she was pounced on the instant she entered the room—­ probably to retire for the night—­ strangled before she could utter a sound, and flung here when dead.”

Again Theydon was aware of the subtle, penetrating, and not wholly unpleasing scent which Furneaux had attributed to the burning of a joss stick, but his mind was focused on the detective’s words, which suggested a queer discrepancy between certain vague possibilities already flitting through his brain and the terrible drama as it presented itself to a skilled criminologist.

“But,” he said, almost protestingly, “from what I have seen of Mrs. Lester she was a strong and active woman.  It is inconceivable that the man who came here last night could have murdered her while I was writing two brief notes.  I am positive he did not remain five minutes, and Bates or I, or both of us, must have heard some trampling of feet, some indications of a struggle.  Moreover, you think she was about to retire.  Doesn’t that opinion conflict with the known facts?”

“What known facts?”

“Well—­ or—­ those I have mentioned.  The brief visit, the open nature of the arrival and departure, the posting of a letter, which, by the way, may have been written in his presence.”

“It was.”

Theydon positively jumped.  He would not be surprised now if Forbes’s name came out.

“How do you know that?” he asked.