"You will be justified," Kelson murmured.
"I think so—by the result," was the quick rejoinder.
Gifford spoke. "What do you think was the real object in your brother coming down here?"
Henshaw looked at his questioner keenly before he answered. "It is my opinion, my conviction, there was a lady in the case. May I ask what prompted you to ask the question?"
Gifford shrugged. "Some idea of the sort was in my own mind," he replied, with a reserve which could scarcely be satisfying to Henshaw.
"Perhaps," he said keenly, "you have also an idea who the lady was."
Gifford shook his head. "Not at all," he returned promptly.
"Then why should the idea have suggested itself to you," came the cross-examining rejoinder.
"Your brother was not a member of the Hunt, and it seemed to us—curious."
Henshaw took him up quickly. "That he should come to the ball? No doubt. I will be perfectly frank with you, as I expect you to be with me. It is perhaps not quite seemly to discuss my brother's failings at this time, but we want to get at the truth about his death. He had, I fear, rather irregular methods in his treatment of women. One can hardly blame him, poor fellow. His was a fascinating personality, at any rate so far as women were concerned. They ran after him, and one can scarcely blame him if he acquired a derogatory opinion of them. After all, he held them no cheaper than they made themselves in his eyes. That note I looked at which came from his pocket was written by him to make an assignation."