and looked his questioner in the face. Mr Cupples nodded.
'Before we proceed to the elucidation of your statement,' observed the old gentleman, in a tone of one discussing a point of abstract science, 'it may be remarked that the state of mind which you attribute to Manderson—'
'Suppose we have the story first,' Trent interrupted, gently laying a hand on Mr. Cupples's arm. 'You were telling us,' he went on, turning to Marlowe, 'how things stood between you and Manderson. Now will you tell us the facts of what happened that night?'
Marlowe flushed at the barely perceptible emphasis which Trent laid upon the word 'facts'. He drew himself up.
'Bunner and myself dined with Mr and Mrs Manderson that Sunday evening,' he began, speaking carefully. 'It was just like other dinners at which the four of us had been together. Manderson was taciturn and gloomy, as we had latterly been accustomed to see him. We others kept a conversation going. We rose from the table, I suppose, about nine. Mrs. Manderson went to the drawing-room, and Bunner went up to the hotel to see an acquaint-.
