She had not at first the power for concealment. Wood was so much exhausted that he was obliged to retire to his own room, where he continued for some hours overpowered by grief. Winifred Wood was now in her twentieth year. “My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. Forgive me?” She pleaded. Presently repellance grew under the frozen mask of astonishment and dissipated it. They will say that it was murder. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there. “I did it for love of you,” he said. “But I’m afraid you are going to be in a hopeless minority here as regards me. To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling.
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