Grant was certainly far from being in his normal state of mind, or he
would have caught the tender gleam which lighted the girl's eyes when she
understood that his concern was for her, not for himself. As it was,
several things had escaped him during that brief talk on the sunlit road.

On her part, Doris Martin was now in full control of her emotions, and
she undoubtedly took a saner view of a difficult situation.

"Robinson is a vain man," she said thoughtfully. "He will not let go the
chance of notoriety given him by the murder of a well-known actress. Was
she really murdered? Robinson said so when I met him on the bridge."

"I'm afraid he is justified in that belief, at any rate."

"Well, Mr. Grant, what have we to conceal? I was in your garden at a
rather late hour, I admit, but one cannot watch the stars by day, and a
big telescope with its tripod is not easily carried about. Of course,
father will be vexed, because, as it happens, I did not tell him I was
coming out. But that cannot be helped. As it happens, I can fix the time
you opened your window almost to a minute, because the church clock had
chimed the quarter just before you appeared."

Grant, however, was not to be soothed by this matter-of-fact reasoning.

"I am vexed at the mere notion of your name, and possibly your portrait,
appearing in the newspapers," he protested. "Miss Melhuish was a
celebrated actress. The press will make a rare commotion about her death.
Look at the obvious questions that will be raised. What was she doing
here? Why was she found in the river bordering the grounds of my house?