indifference, seems to have dropped off all her old friends and to
have made no others. He might poison her, bury the body in the garden,
and be a thousand miles away before anyone began even to inquire about
her. What am I to do, Mr. Carrados?"

"He is less likely to try poison than some other means now," pondered
Carrados. "That having failed, his wife will always be on her guard.
He may know, or at least suspect, that others know. No. ... The
common-sense precaution would be for your sister to leave the man, Mr.
Hollyer. She will not?"

"No," admitted Hollyer, "she will not. I at once urged that." The
young man struggled with some hesitation for a moment and then blurted
out: "The fact is, Mr. Carrados, I don't understand Millicent. She is
not the girl she was. She hates Creake and treats him with a silent
contempt that eats into their lives like acid, and yet she is so
jealous of him that she will let nothing short of death part them. It
is a horrible life they lead. I stood it for a week and I must say,
much as I dislike my brother-in-law, that he has something to put up
with. If only he got into a passion like a man and killed her it
wouldn't be altogether incomprehensible."

"That does not concern us," said Carrados. "In a game of this kind one
has to take sides and we have taken ours. It remains for us to see
that our side wins. You mentioned jealousy, Mr. Hollyer. Have you any
idea whether Mrs. Creake has real ground for it?"

"I should have told you that," replied Lieutenant Hollyer. "I happened
to strike up with a newspaper man whose office is in the same block as
Creake's. When I mentioned the name he grinned. 'Creake,' he said,