came. Possibly from a much beflowered, bejeweled, elderly dame,
whose eyes were fixed on Mr. Durand's averted face. If so, she
received a defiant look from mine, which I do not believe she
forgot in a hurry.

Alas! it was not the only curious, I might say searching glance I
surprised directed against him as we made our way to where I
could see my uncle struggling to reach us from a short side hall.
The whisper seemed to have gone about that Mr. Durand had been
the last one to converse with Mrs. Fairbrother prior to the
tragedy.

In time I had the satisfaction of joining my uncle. He betrayed
great relief at the sight of me, and, encouraged by his kindly
smile, I introduced Mr. Durand. My conscious air must have
produced its impression, for he turned a startled and inquiring
look upon my companion, then took me resolutely on his own arm,
saying:

"There is likely to be some unpleasantness ahead for all of us. I
do not think the police will allow any one to go till that
diamond has been looked for. This is a very serious matter, dear.
So many think the murderer was one of the guests."

"I think so, too," said I. But why I thought so or why I should
say so with such vehemence, I do not know even now.

My uncle looked surprised.

"You had better not advance any opinions," he advised. "A lady