The White Room. Hume Fergus

asked Derrick doubtfully.

      Fane was a smart, cheery-faced fellow with rather a weak mouth. He looked rather haggard, as he had practically risen from a sick-bed to obey the summons of the law. For the moment he appeared puzzled when Derrick spoke. Then he flashed an indignant look on him, and grew red. "Do you mean to insinuate that I did something underhand, Mr. Inspector?" he inquired excitedly.

      "Men admire pretty women," said Derrick dryly.

      "I do, like all men. At the same time I am faithful to my wife, whom I love very dearly. We are a most attached couple. And if you hint at anything wrong, sir, let me tell you that I was ill with a cold at the seaside when this crime was perpetrated. Also, had I been in town-had I known this woman-I certainly should not have brought her to my own house."

      "No! no! quite so," said Derrick soothingly. "I don't mean to hint for a moment that your character is not spotless. But this key, sir. Has it ever been out of your possession?"

      "Never! I carry it, as you see, on a steel chain. It comes off at night and goes on in the morning. Only my wife could have had it in her possession. You are not going to accuse her of taking an impression, are you?" asked Fane scathingly.

      "Does Mrs. Fane know the woman?" asked Derrick, passing over this ironical speech.

      "No. She never set eyes on her. No one knows who the woman is."

      "Strange! Strange! I wonder why she should be killed in your house?"

      "Don't you know her name?" asked Fane.

      "No. There is no mark on her linen; no cards or letters in her pocket. She came out of the darkness into your house, and has been swallowed up by the darkness of the grave. We know no more. At the inquest something may transpire."

      "I sincerely hope so," said Fane bluntly. "The whole thing is most disagreeable. I shall have to give up Ajax Villa. My wife is quite upset. The affair will put me to great expense. Good-day."

      "One moment. Do you know a young man with a pointed beard?"

      "Not that I can recall," replied Fane after a pause. "But of course I may have met such a person."

      "Well" – Derrick gave up his questions in despair-"we must wait for the inquest."

      But here a fresh disappointment awaited him. Nothing came to light at the inquest likely to throw light on the mystery. Geason proved that the unknown woman had been stabbed from behind and had died almost immediately. He was positive that she had been dead five hours when he was called in. If this were so, the woman who sang the song could not be the dead one. Nor could the young man who entered into conversation with Mulligan have been sent to lure him away so that the murder might take place. When the young man came out of the house the woman must have been dead three hours. The doctor firmly held to this opinion, and thereby perplexed the jury and upset the theories of Derrick.

      Various were the opinions given by those present during the interview. Some thought this, some that, and every one had his own pet solution of the mystery. But the evidence was scanty. Both Mr. and Mrs. Fane stated that they knew nothing of the woman. The husband insisted that the latch-key had never been out of his possession, and the wife asserted that he had been sick in bed miles away at the time the crime was committed. Mulligan described his meeting with the strange young man and the conversation which had ensued; also his discovery of the body, and how he had entered the house. All inquiries on the part of the police failed to prove the identity of the dead. Tracey stated how he had missed his motor-car, and evidence was forthcoming to show that it had been left in the Charing Cross yard. But no one seemed to know who had brought it there. The result of this crop of scanty facts was obvious. The jury brought in a verdict against some person or persons unknown.

      "It's the only thing to be said," said Derrick to Fane when the crowd dispersed. "The woman is dead, and she must be buried. That cost will fall on the parish."

      "No," replied Fane, who did not seem to be an unkindly man. "The poor creature died in my house, so I will charge myself with her burial. I have consulted Mrs. Fane, and she thinks as I do."

      "But you know nothing about her."

      "That is true. However, if you make inquiries, you may learn."

      The inspector shook his head. "I fear not; I don't know where to look. It is a kind thought of you to bury her, Mr. Fane. Not many men would do that in your place after the trouble you have had."

      "It's the least I can do, seeing she was murdered under my roof. But you may hear who she is. Why not advertise?"

      "That has been done. Handbills have been placed round describing her looks, and with a picture. Orders have been sent throughout London to the police to keep their eyes open. I doubt if anything will come of the hunt though."

      "Surely," said Fane, wrinkling his brows, "a woman can't disappear like this in London?"

      "London is the very place where people disappear," retorted Derrick. "Those who live in this big city never know how many people vanish yearly and are never heard of again. In this case we have the body of the woman, but who she was, where she came from, and why she was murdered in your house, will probably never be known."

      "Well," said Fane, with the air of a man dismissing the subject, "if you do intend to make inquiries, please keep me advised of your discoveries. I should like to know how the woman entered the house. I believe you saw my locksmith?"

      "I did. He swears positively that he did not make a duplicate key. More than that, he has not a duplicate of the one he made you."

      Fane looked doubtful. "I should have thought he would have retained a copy for trade purposes. Suppose I lost the key-"

      "He would not have been able to make you another, Mr. Fane. However, I am keeping an eye on him. He may be lying for his own ends. One never knows, and I always mistrust respectable men."

      "From what my sister-in-law told me, Mr. Derrick, you were inclined to mistrust me."

      Derrick coughed. "The case is so strange," said he; "but I am now quite sure that you had nothing to do with the matter."

      "Thank you for nothing," said Fane dryly. "It is lucky that with the assistance of my wife I was able to prove an alibi."

      "Very lucky indeed," replied the inspector cheerfully. "Had you been in town that night, and unable to explain your comings and goings, it might have gone hard with you."

      "Do you mean to say-"

      "Nothing-absolutely nothing. But see here, Mr. Fane; put yourself in my place, in the place of any man. A woman gains admittance to your house and there is murdered. You alone have the key. On the face of it, does not that look as though you alone killed her, else, why the use of your key to let her enter the house? It is lucky for you, as you say, that in full open court, and in the ears of all men, you were able to prove an alibi, else nine out of ten would have suspected you of knowing more than you stated."

      "I said all I knew."

      "I am sure of that, sir; and you proved-with the assistance of Mrs. Fane-your innocence. As they say, you leave the court without a stain. All the same, the case is strange. For my part, pending the discovery of the young man who dropped the key, I shall hunt for the woman. In her past life will be found the explanation of her death. I shall let you know how I get on, but I must ask you to also keep me advised of what you see and hear."

      Fane shrugged his shoulders and took out a cigar. "I shall take no further steps in the matter. Once this woman is buried, and I have left Ajax Villa, the thing will be relegated to obscurity so far as I am concerned."

      "Well," said Derrick, with a side look, "perhaps that's natural."

      He then said good-bye to Fane, and went away thoughtfully. Derrick was not a particularly brilliant mortal, as his conduct of the case shows. As the saying goes, he could not see further than his nose. But he certainly wondered in his own mind, if despite the evidence of Mrs. Fane, her husband might not have something to do with the matter. To save his life, to keep him from shame, she might have kept silence. "But it's impossible," said Derrick aloud. "If he was guilty, she would not lie. If the victim had been a man now. But as it was a woman, a jealous creature like Mrs. Fane would certainly