Dr. Ellis sat down aghast. "Good heavens, Cass! Surely you don't think her guilty?"
"I don't know enough about the case to say," said Cass, meditatively; "but Mrs. Moxton puzzles me, I confess. For instance, she tells lies."
"Tells lies!" repeated the widow's champion, with great indignation.
"Yes, and in the most unblushing manner. At the inquest she said that she took her husband's body in her arms and felt the blood flowing from the wound in his back. Now, it is my impression that she never touched the body."
"How can you prove that?"
"Very simply. When she came into this room she wore a plain black dress, with cuffs of white linen. Now, if she had handled the body and had touched the wound, it is only natural to suppose that those cuffs would be stained with blood. I noticed, however, that they were not."
"But that is all the stronger proof that she is innocent."
"Of the actual murder, maybe, Bob; but it does not prove that she is ignorant of who killed the man. She told lies about the handling of the body, as I said. It seems to me," added Cass, reflectively, "that Mrs. Moxton is shielding the assassin."
"But why should she shield a murderer?"
"Ah, that you must learn from the woman herself. But if she is completely in the dark about the matter, why does she tell falsehoods? Then that cypher, those blood signs on the arm--the dying man wrote them to indicate to his wife the name of the murderer."