"Which I hope and believe will very soon be over," Gifford responded cheeringly.
Miss Morriston glanced at him curiously. "You believe that?" she returned almost sharply. "How can you think so? It seems to me that with little apparent likelihood of clearing up the mystery, the affair may drag on for weeks."
Gifford answered with a reassuring smile. "Hardly that. If the police can make nothing of it, and they seem to be quite nonplussed, they will have to give up their investigations and fall back on their first theory of suicide."
Leaning back and watching his companion's face in profile as she sat forward, he could see that his suggestion was by no means convincing.
"I wish I could take your view, Mr. Gifford," she returned, with the suggestion of a bitter smile. "I dare say if the authorities were left to themselves they might give up. But you forget a very potent factor in the tiresome business, the brother, Mr. Gervase Henshaw; he will keep them up to the work of investigation, will he not?"
"Up to a certain point, and one can scarcely blame him. But even then, the police are not likely to continue working on his theories when they lead to no result."
"No?" Miss Morriston replied in an unconvinced tone. "But he is—" she turned to him. "Tell me your candid opinion of this Mr. Gervase Henshaw. Is he very—"
"Objectionable?" Gifford supplied as she hesitated. "Unpleasantly sharp and energetic, I should say. Although it is, perhaps, hardly fair to judge a man labouring under the stress of a brother's tragic death."
"He is determined to get to the explanation of the mystery?" The tinge of excitement she had exhibited in her former question had now passed away: she now spoke in her habitual cold, even tone.
"He says so. Naturally he will do all he can to that end. Of course it would be a satisfaction to know for certain how the tragedy came about: not that it matters much otherwise. But unfortunately he rather poses as an expert in criminology, and that will make for pertinacity."