"What the deuce should he do?" cried Cannington, openly surprised. "He's well out of an awkward situation, so there's no more to be said. I daresay he'll write a melodrama on the case and solve the mystery in the wrong way."
"I am not so sure," said I pointedly, "that I won't try to solve it the right way."
"What do you mean by that?" asked my friend, staring.
"I mean that the mystery of Mrs. Caldershaw's glass eye fascinates me, and that I intend to follow up what clues there are."
"There aren't any," said Cannington promptly. "You heard what Inspector Dredge remarked at the inquest."
"He admitted that he could find no evidence, it is true, but that doesn't mean to say that evidence is not to be found."
"Are you about to turn an amateur detective?"
"Why not? Now why are you laughing?"
"Oh, he's crazy," said Mabel disdainfully. "Here comes my train. I'll have a rush to reach town and dress. Aunt Lucy is always so punctual, I'm sure to get into hot water."
"Ask Mr. Wentworth Marr to get you out of it," said I jokingly.