that was very confusing; but surprised? No. Mr. Gryce's manner had too well prepared me.
"This the lady who was married to Mr. Clavering, my good man? I guess you are mistaken," cried the detective, in a very incredulous tone.
"Mistaken? Did n't I say I would know her anywhere? This is the lady, if she is the president's wife herself." And Mr. Cook leaned over it with a devouring look that was not without its element of homage.
"I am very much astonished," Mr. Gryce went on, winking at me in a slow, diabolical way which in another mood would have aroused my fiercest anger. "Now, if you had said the other lady was the one"—pointing to the picture on the mantelpiece, "I should n't have wondered."
"She? I never saw that lady before; but this one—would you mind telling me her name, sirs?"
"If what you say is true, her name is Mrs. Clavering."
"Clavering? Yes, that was his name."
"And a very lovely lady," said Mr. Gryce. "Morris, have n't you found anything yet?"
Q, for answer, brought forward glasses and a bottle.
But Mr. Cook was in no mood for liquor. I think he was struck with remorse; for, looking from the picture to Q, and from Q to the picture, he said:
"If I have done this lady wrong by my talk, I'll never forgive myself. You told me I would help her to get her rights; if you have deceived me"
"Oh, I have n't deceived you," broke in Q, in his short, sharp way. "Ask that gentleman there if we are not all interested in Mrs. Clavering getting her due."
He had designated me; but I was in no mood to reply. I longed to have the man dismissed, that I might inquire the reason of the great complacency which I
