"I thought you said he'd gone."
"He has gone from the hotel, but not from Ballymoy. He's at present staying with his niece."
"I didn't know he had a niece."
"Miss King, or, to be quite accurate, Mrs. Lorimer, is his niece, and he's staying with her."
Major Kent started and laid down his teacup. Then a look of relief came into his face, and he smiled.
"You'll give up that absurd theory of yours now, I suppose," he said, "and admit that Miss King isn't a murderess. I always knew she wasn't, though I couldn't convince you."
"I don't see," said Meldon, "that anything has happened to invalidate the evidence on which we originally concluded that Miss King is Mrs. Lorimer."
"Don't be an ass, J. J. You say she's the judge's niece; so of course she can't—"
"You apparently think," said Meldon, "that a judge's niece, merely because her uncle happens to occupy a position of legal eminence, couldn't possibly commit a crime. You're entirely wrong. Some of the greatest women criminals the world has ever seen have been the nieces of men of high position. Look at Lucrezia Borgia, for instance. Her uncle was a Pope; and whatever our religious opinions may be we must admit that a Pope is a bigger man than an ordinary judge, and yet Lucrezia is famous for some of the most remarkable crimes in all history. I could quote other instances, but that one ought to be sufficient to convince you that relationship to a judge is no safeguard—"
"That wasn't what I meant, J. J. You say that this judge tried Mrs. Lorimer. Now if—"