"The murderer was not caught," Arnold told him. "No one seems to
have seen him clearly, it all took place so quickly. He stole out of
some corner where he must have been hiding, and he was gone before
anyone had time to realize what was happening."

Mr. Weatherley had been standing up all this time, clutching
nervously at his desk. He suddenly collapsed into his easy-chair.
His face was gray, his mouth twitched as though he were about to
have a stroke.

"My God!" he murmured. "Rosario dead! They had him, after all!
They--killed him!"

"It was a great shock to every one," Arnold went on. "Mrs.
Weatherley arrived about a quarter of an hour before it occurred. I
understood that she was expecting to lunch with him, but when I told
her why I was there she came and sat at my table. She was sitting
there when it happened. She was very much upset indeed. I was
detained looking after her."

Mr. Weatherley looked at him narrowly.

"I am sorry that she was there," he said. "She is not strong. She
ought not to be subjected to such shocks."

"I left her with Mr. Starling," Arnold continued. "He was going to
take her home."

"Was Starling lunching there?" Mr. Weatherley asked.