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that name we want. It would have been a very happy chance. The case would have been over before it started.”

“Cases do not permit themselves the luxury of such easy solution,” sighed Chan. “If letter such as you warmly desire had been in this room, murderer would have it now. No—fate is never so kind. We must take long way round. Come—we have finished here for the present. Much more to be done later.”

They went out, and Charlie locked the door. As they moved across the lawn, he enumerated the clues. “A watch stopped at two minutes past eight in fierce struggle. A bouquet of orchids crushed in same, the pin that held them in place oddly lost. A fresh nick on glass corner of dressing-table. Enough for the moment, maybe.”

As they entered the living-room, Jessop was ushering in Martino and Alan Jaynes. The latter’s face was pale beneath its bronze, and he was obviously much upset.

“We will all acquire chairs,” Chan suggested. “Many questions must now be asked.”

Jessop came forward and faced Tarneverro. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said. “With all the excitement, I quite forgot it.”

“Forgot what?” asked Tarneverro, surprised.

“This letter, sir.” He took a large elaborate envelope from his pocket. “Miss Fane requested me to give it to you the moment you arrived.”

Tarneverro stretched forth his hand, but Charlie stepped quickly between them. He took the envelope. “So sorry. But the police are in charge here now.”

“Naturally, sir,” Jessop bowed, and backed away.