"She had a favorite instrument, had she not, upon which she was fond of playing?"
"You seem to know a great deal about her, Mr. Emery. Her favorite instrument was the zither."
"Have you heard her play upon it?"
"Yes, and her touch was sweet and beautiful."
"Would you say that her inclination was to play sorrowful or somber airs?"
"By no means. The zither does not lend itself to boisterous music, there is a tenderness in the instrument which goes to the heart. Her taste lay in the direction of sweetness; but there was nothing sorrowful or somber in her playing."
These questions answered, I succeeded in changing the subject of conversation, and Ronald stopped with us an hour, and then took his departure, saying before he left, "I rely on your promise, Mr. Emery."
When he was gone I said to Bob, "False in one thing, false in all. Mr. Nisbet's evidence at the inquest was a tissue of fabrications. Now, Bob, I am going to put you to the test. The house in Lamb's Terrace is mine for three months. Will you spend a night or two with me there?"
He looked up, rather startled at the proposition; but any uneasiness he may have felt passed away almost immediately.
"Yes," he replied. "When?"