That this fact had presented itself to the Inspector with such a force
of conviction raised a great load from my mind. It had all along been
evident to me, but I had feared that to the official outlook of my
companion, and the official outlook is always peculiar, it might have
seemed otherwise.

"The clever and cunning villain who planned this thing," I said, "has
overstepped himself, as you say, Gatton. If the murder was planned
artistically, in his attempt to throw the onus of the crime upon
innocent shoulders he has been guilty of a piece of very mediocre
work. It would not deceive a child."

"No, I agree with you there. The discovery of that photograph has done
more to convince me of the innocence of Miss Merlin than any amount of
testimonials to her good character could ever have done. You see," he
added, smiling whimsically, "all sorts of people hitherto unsuspected
by their closest friends of criminal tendency, develop that taint, so
that I am never surprised to find a convicted thief or assassin
possessed of credentials which would do justice to an Archbishop. But
when I see an obviously artificial clew I recognize it a mile off.
Real clews never stare you in the face like that."

Coming out of the front door, we walked down the leaf-strewn drive to
find that the constable on duty at the gate had been joined by a
plain-clothes man who was evidently waiting to speak to the Inspector.

"Yes?" said Gatton eagerly, at sight of the newcomer.

"We have her, sir," he reported tersely.