"
"You must admit, my dear Harry," Gifford replied calmly, "that with a man
stabbed to death in practically the next room, the blood-stains on Miss
Tredworth's dress were bound to give rise to conjecture. One would
suspect an archbishop in a similar position. But that is all over now. I
am as convinced as you can be that Miss Tredworth knew nothing of the
business."
"On your honour that is your opinion?"
"On my honour."
"This new discovery has changed your opinion?"
"It has at least shown me how dangerous it may be to jump to
conclusions."
Kelson drew in a breath. "Yes, indeed. Poor Muriel has suffered from the
suspicion as well as from the horrible shock of the discovery. Still,
this new development, though it acquits her, does nothing towards solving
the mystery. I wonder whether Edith Morriston has any idea as to how her
dress got marked."
"I wonder," Gifford responded abstractedly.
"Well," said Kelson, "I'm off to carry the good news to Muriel. Don't
wait dinner for me if I'm not back by seven-thirty."
It was rather a relief to Gifford to be left alone that he might review
the situation without interruption.
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