“While he was speaking, Lyle and I had been searching every corner, studying the details of each room.  I was so afraid that, without telling me, he would make some deductions prejudicial to Arthur, that I never left his side.  I was determined to see everything that he saw, and, if possible, to prevent his interpreting it in the wrong way.  He finally finished his examination, and we sat down together in the drawing-room, and he took out his note-book and read aloud all that Mr. Sears had told him of the murder and what we had just learned from Arthur.  We compared the two accounts, word for word, and weighed statement with statement, but I could not determine, from anything Lyle said, which of the two versions he had decided to believe.

“‘We are trying to build a house of blocks,’ he exclaimed, ’with half of the blocks missing.  We have been considering two theories,’ he went on:  ’one that Lord Arthur is responsible for both murders, and the other that the dead woman in there is responsible for one of them, and has committed suicide; but, until the Russian servant is ready to talk, I shall refuse to believe in the guilt of either.’

“‘What can you prove by him?’ I asked.  ’He was drunk and asleep.  He saw nothing.’

“Lyle hesitated, and then, as though he had made up his mind to be quite frank with me, spoke freely.

“‘I do not know that he was either drunk or asleep,’ he answered.  ’Lieutenant Sears describes him as a stupid boor.  I am not satisfied that he is not a clever actor.  What was his position in this house?  What was his real duty here?  Suppose it was not to guard this woman, but to watch her.  Let us imagine that it was not the woman he served, but a master, and see where that leads us.  For this house has a master, a mysterious, absentee landlord, who lives in St. Petersburg, the unknown Russian who came between Chetney and Zichy, and because of whom Chetney left her.  He is the man who bought this house for Madame Zichy, who sent these rugs and curtains from St. Petersburg to furnish it for her after his own tastes, and, I believe, it was he also who placed the Russian servant here, ostensibly to serve the Princess, but in reality to spy upon her.  At Scotland Yard we do not know who this gentleman is; the Russian police confess to equal ignorance concerning him.  When Lord Chetney went to Africa, Madame Zichy lived in St. Petersburg; but there her receptions and dinners were so crowded with members of the nobility and of the army and diplomats, that, among so many visitors, the police could not learn which was the one for whom she most greatly cared.’

“Lyle pointed at the modern French paintings and the heavy, silk rugs which hung upon the walls.