“Yes,” I acquiesced. “The mystery is as complete as ever.”
“Has no single clue been found, either by the police or by your friend—Jevons is, I think, his name?” she asked, with keen anxiety.
“One or two points have, I believe, been elucidated,” I answered; “but the mystery still remains unsolved.”
“As it ever will be,” she added, with a sigh which appeared to me to be one of satisfaction, rather than of regret. “The details were so cleverly arranged that the police have been baffled in every endeavour. Is not that so?”
I nodded in the affirmative.
“And your friend Jevons? Has he given up all hope of any satisfactory discovery?”
“I really don’t know,” I answered. “I’ve not seen him for quite a long time. And in any case he has told me nothing regarding the result of his investigations. It is his habit to be mute until he has gained some tangible result.”
A puzzled, apprehensive expression crossed her white brow for a moment; then it vanished into a pleasant smile, as she asked in confidence:
“Now, tell me, Ralph, what is your own private opinion of the situation?”
“Well, it is both complicated and puzzling. If we could discover any reason for the brutal deed we might get a clue to the assassin; but as far as the police have been able to gather, it seems that there is an entire absence of motive; hence the impossibility of carrying the inquiries further.”