"Ah!" he murmured. "I thought that it might be so. The young lady is perhaps an old friend?"
"I cannot discuss her," Wrayson answered. "I can only say that I will answer for her innocence as regards any complicity in the murder of Morris Barnes."
Heneage nodded sympathetically.
"Still," he remarked, "the man was murdered."
"I suppose so," Wrayson admitted.
"And in a most mysterious manner," Heneage continued. "You have gathered, I dare say, from your knowledge of me, that these affairs always interest me immensely. I am almost as great a crank as the Colonel. I have been thinking over this case a great deal, but I must confess that up to to-night I have not been able to see a gleam of daylight. I had dismissed the young lady from my mind. Now, however, I cannot do so."
"Simply because you saw her with the Baroness de Sturm?" Wrayson asked.
"They are living together," Heneage reminded him, "a condition which naturally makes for a certain amount of intimacy."
"Do you know anything against the Baroness?" Wrayson demanded.
"Against her?" Heneage repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that depends."