After our fair visitor had departed, Thorndyke stood for a minute or more gazing dreamily into the fire. Then, with a quick glance at his watch, he resumed his hat and, catching up the microscope, handed the camera case to me and made for the door.
"How the time goes!" he exclaimed, as we descended the stairs; "but it hasn't been wasted, Jervis, hey?"
"No, I suppose not," I answered tentatively.
"You suppose not!" he replied. "Why here is as pretty a little problem as you could desire—what would be called in the jargon of the novels, a psychological problem—and it is your business to work it out, too."
"You mean as to Miss Gibson's relations with these two young men?"
Thorndyke nodded.
"Is it any concern of ours?" I asked.
"Certainly it is," he replied. "Everything is a concern of ours at this preliminary stage. We are groping about for a clue and must let nothing pass unscrutinised."
"Well, then, to begin with, she is not wildly infatuated with Walter Hornby, I should say."
"No," agreed Thorndyke, laughing softly; "we may take it that the canny Walter has not inspired a grand passion."